“Out there beyond them piled-up rocks and God-forsaken fields,” swept on the other, “there’s a real world where the tides are tides of gold, an’ for me they are goin’ to sweep in with a plunder of riches an’ power that all hell can’t stop!  Out yonder there are cities where men are doing things an’ ships are lyin’ at the wharves with stuff that comes from the ends of the earth—­an’ those ships are goin’ to go an’ come when and where I tell ’em!  They’re goin’ to carry cargoes at my biddin’ an’ my people are goin’ to have what they want.  Instead of a wheezy little bellows organ that acts like it had the asthma and cracked voices singin’ hymns out of tune, you’re goin’ to listen to operas, an’ Mary’s goin’ to have men that the world knows come courtin’ her—­in the place of ignorant lumber-jacks.”  The young speaker paused for breath, and when he spoke again it was in a voice that defied contradiction or doubt.  “I’m goin’ to make the name of Hamilton Montagu Burton the best-known name in the United States of America!”

“How do you know you can do all them things, Ham?” The question stole from lips that trembled excitedly under the hypnotic spell of the announcement, and the answer came quickly, unfalteringly, gravely.

“I know it by something that tells me.  It don’t say ‘maybe you can’:  it says ‘there isn’t power enough between heaven an’ hell to stop you.’”

Paul’s eyes were large, but as his brother paused he timidly inquired:  “Where did the Montagu come from, Ham?  I didn’t know you had any middle name.”

“I took it,” announced Ham imperiously.  “I took it because it’s the name of one of the biggest financiers the world ever knew, but not as big as I’m goin’ to be.  I took it because I’m a brother to men like that—­but I’m going to go beyond ’em all, an’ I’ll carry the name further than it was ever carried before.  I haven’t ever talked about this to any livin’ soul else.  Folks wouldn’t understand.  First of all, I’m goin’ to leave this country an’ get out into the world.”

“Will Pap let you go?”

Ham laughed again.  “Pap can’t stop me.  Nobody can’t ever stop me.  You can’t hold a river back from the ocean.  That’s the difference between a river an’ a pond.  It’s the difference between followin’ a star of destiny an’ just goin’ on livin’ the same as an animal in a God-forsaken country like this.”

“This ain’t such a bad country, Ham,” argued Paul weakly, with the timid demurrer of one who sees only the difficulties.  “There are some mighty-good people here, an’ out there in the big cities a feller’s got to fight mighty hard to get along, I guess.”

“It’s a good country to come from,” was the swift and contemptuous rejoinder, “and a damn’ poor one to stay in.  They’ve got raw material here that’s all right—­like us—­but you’ve got to take it away to finish it up.  As for the hard fight you talk about, Paul, that’s what I’m huntin’ for.  No man’s ever lived that had it in him to be greater than me.”