upon the frontier; and by his side, equally prosperous, might be one who in his earlier days had never needed to earn a dollar nor to thrash a fellow-man.  Civilization at its later stages drives the man into a corner.  In its beginning it summons this same man out of the corner and asks him to rely upon himself for the great and the small things of life, thus ultimately developing that sturdy citizen who knows the value of the axiom, “Ubi bene, ibi patria.”  The great deeds, the great dreams become possible for nation or for individual only through the constant performance of small deeds.  “For it must be remembered that life consists not of a series of illustrious actions or elegant enjoyments.  The greater part of our time passes in compliance with necessities, in the performance of daily duties, in the removal of small inconveniences, in the procurement of petty pleasures; and we are well or ill at ease as the main stream of life glides on smoothly, or is ruffled by small obstructions and frequent interruptions.”

Such philosophy was for Franklin unformulated.  Care sat not on his heart.  There were at first no problems in all the world for him.  It was enough to feel this warm sun upon the cheek, to hear the sigh of the wind in the grasses, to note the nodding flowers and hear the larks busy with their joys.  The stirring of primeval man was strong, that magnificent rebellion against bonds which has, after all, been the mainspring of all progress, however much the latter may be regulated by many intercurrent wheels.  It was enough for Franklin to be alive.  He stood straight, he breathed deep.  This infection was in his blood.

“Think you, Ned, me boy,” said Battersleigh, one day, as they stood at the tent door—­“think you, this old gray world has been inhabited a million years, by billions of people, and yet here we have a chance to own a part of it, each for himself, here, at this last minute of the world’s life!  Do you mind that, what it means?  Never you think a chance like that’ll last forever.  Yet here we are, before the law, and almost antedatin’ the social ijee.  It’s the beginning man, it’s the very beginnin’ of things, where we’re standin’ here, this very blessed day of grace.  It’s Batty has travelled all his life, and seen the lands, but never did Batty live till now!”

“It’s grand,” murmured Franklin, half dreamily and unconsciously repeating the very words of his friend, as he had done before.

Yet Franklin was well bitten of the ambition germ.  It would serve him to run only in the front rank.  He was not content to dream.  He saw the great things ahead, and the small things that lay between.  In a week he was the guiding mind in the affairs of the odd partnership which now sprang between him and his friend.  Battersleigh would have lived till autumn in his tent, but Franklin saw that the need of a house was immediate.  He took counsel of Curly, the cowboy, who proved guardian and benefactor.