A little boy watched his father work and learned the lesson that man lives best by the sweat of his own brow, not by the sweat of other men's brows. While they toiled, through the shadows of the surrounding forest a savage stole secretly toward them on his soft moccasins. He paused, aimed his gun and fired. The man fell over dead; then the Indian came rapidly, caught up the boy and ran off toward the woods with him. But his older brother, Mordecai, ran to the log hut and catching up the ever ready gun shot the Indian through the heart and sent him.
