Now I began the second chapter of my life's
voyage. No longer a precocious child, I was growing to young manhood
and was not lacking in those qualities which are essential in the
successful performance of life's continual struggle. I was heartily
welcomed by my uncle, my mother's brother. My aunt, poor lady, had,
of course, given me up as lost and greeted me with joyful admiration.
But she did not venture close to me, for in me she saw a strong,
lusty young man, bright eyed, alert-looking and carrying a deadly
army revolver and wicked hunting knife at his belt. To be sure, I was
suntanned and graybacked beyond comparison with the dust of a
thousand miles of wagon road.
As I had expected, I found my uncle in very prosperous circumstances,
in a commercial sense. And no wonder, for he was a tall, fine-looking
man, under forty and overflowing with energy and personal magnetism.
And my mother's little family tree did the rest--aye, surely, it was
not to be sneezed at, as will be presently seen.
Of course, mother traced her ancestral lineage, as all other people
do, to Adam and Eve in general, but in particular she claimed descent
from those ancient heroes of the Northland, the Vikings. These daring
rovers of the seas were really a right jolly set of men.
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