He
was of good height for his age, strongly built,
and had a frank, attractive face. He was
naturally of a cheerful temperament, but at present
his face was grave, and not without a shade
of anxiety. This can hardly be a matter of
surprise when we consider that he was thrown
upon his own resources, and that his available
capital consisted of thirty-seven cents in
money, in addition to a good education and
a rather unusual amount of physical strength.
These last two items were certainly valuable,
but they cannot always be exchanged for the
necessaries and comforts of life.
For some time his steps had been lagging,
and from time to time he had to wipe the moisture
from his brow with a fine linen handkerchief,
which latter seemed hardly compatible
with his almost destitute condition.
I hasten to introduce my hero, for such he
is to be, as Carl Crawford, son of Dr. Paul
Crawford, of Edgewood Center. Why he had
set out to conquer fortune single-handed will
soon appear.
A few rods ahead Carl's attention was
drawn to a wide-spreading oak tree, with a carpet
of verdure under its sturdy boughs.
"I will rest here for a little while," he said
to himself, and suiting the action to the word,
threw down his gripsack and flung himself on
the turf.
"This is refreshing," he murmured, as, lying
upon his back, he looked up through the leafy
rifts to the sky above. "I don't know when
I have ever been so tired. It's no joke walking
a dozen miles under a hot sun, with a heavy
gripsack in your hand.
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