Uncle Sam

Chapter I

sam'l's education

“Sam Saylor, I wonder what ’tis you have in your arms?”

“It’s cal’n’dars, Seenie, an’ I got the very best ones I c’d find in town.” Uncle Sam hung his old plug hat on a chair and parted his long coat tails as he seated himself. A peculiar twinkle lighted his deep-set eyes, overhung by shaggy brows, as he leisurely unrolled his package. His wife eyed him with curious distrust.

“If I have my way an’ say, Sam, every one ’ll go straight ’s a kite into the fire, for they ain’t needed sence the days fly by jest ’s fast cal’n’dars or no cal’n’dars.”

His massive face resembled a seared country stretch in furrowed lines in its serious aspect and he spoke gravely:

“Seenie, I’ve been studyin’ ’bout this new way of ed’catin’ an’ I’ve took might’ly to the [i]

idee that a child can’t begin l’arnin’ too young. Now I’ve been cal’latin’ ’bout givin’ Sam’l a good start by use of the needed tools an’ them cal’n’dars is for a perpose. I’ve set my mind to havin’ this boy the pick of his gin’ration an’ I’m goin’ to ’tend to his ed’cation sence it’s needful to have some one that’s understand^’ an’ pertic’ler.” Uncle Sam was so absorbed by his new plans he failed to note the look on his wife’s face as she continued the preparations for the evening meal. Then she burst forth volubly :

“Sam Saylor, I believe so much trash readin’ has turned what little brains you had an’ I’ve warned you ’bout goin’ to the crazy house. What are you drivin’ at? You ort to know that sweet baby wouldn’t know the numbers from the side of a barn door.” She pounded the biscuits with renewed vigor.

“Now, Seenie, don’t go hot-shot ag’in, but you an Maria hark to what I’m sayin’ an’ you’ll be all the wiser for’t.” Uncle Sam rose as he spoke and in an impressive voice addressed them, squaring his broad shoulders and stroking his long, white beard thoughtfully with his right hand.

“You know that the chanct of l’arnin’ didn’t come my way. I c’d have been a Jedge at the bar, a Gin’ral in the army, a Doctor of bones or anythin’ most if somebody’d have give me [ 2 ]

the chanct to l’arn my books. I don’t want Sam’l to say when he’s growed up that he never had no helpin’ han’, for I’m goin’ to guide him ’long the right road so’s we c’n have a boy to be proud of. Them cal’n’dars seem no good to you, Seenie, but they’ll be a power for good if used rightly.

“When you see a smart feller don’t think that he made hisself — no, there was some one behind him givin’ the push an’ showin’ of the way. I didn’t have no kindly eye on me when I was a shindy brat helpin’ ma make the livin’ for a lot of hungry little shavers. Now I’m goin’ to see that my namesake ’s well took care of, an’ that he has his show in the worl’.” His auditors seemed much impressed by this feeling explanation as to his purpose.

“Seenie, it was luck findin’ that writin’ which has took hold o’ my mind for now we’ll lose no time with Sam’l. He must have his blocks an’ dom’noes; Maria, set him down an’ I’ll give him the fust figurin’ lesson. Red’s the guidin’ color so he’ll notice the numbers I know.” Sam’l took the pasteboard and looked it over with much interest, while the others watched him closely.

“He’s notin’ the diff’rent figur’s an’ I bet a bright dollar that he’ll soon see toted up they’ll make a big sum.” His grandfather was de- [ 3 ]

lighted with the comprehensive expression in the baby’s big, round eyes.

‘‘Sammy, there’s one — two — three. One — two — three — four — five. Look at them good so’s you’ll know the next time.” Uncle Sam smiled anxiously into the little face turned to him.

“Sam, I’ve not a mite o’ patience with you for bein’ sich a fool. He’s too little yit, an’ no notion what you’re talkin’ ’bout — no more than the white cat.”

“He’s reasonin’ all the time, Seenie, an’ he’s not too young to study for he’s thinkin’ more’n we guess. Now, Sam’l, more numbers — one — two — three. He’s took to the idee an’ now wants to see if July ’s more days ’n June. My —how puzzled he is, an’ he’s tearin’ them up, to show how many days in the month — ain’t he clever?”

“Sam, do you b’lieve all that trash you’re talkin’?” Uncle Sam was too interested in his experiment to reply.

“He sees that he can’t read them the same upside down, an’ wonders what the trouble is. Count up the figur’s, Sam’l, an’ gran’pap ’ll git you a baseball bat.”

“Pa, look out there. I knew it. See the color dyeing his cheeks, and his little mouth is all red.” His mother went to the rescue.

“Sam, take that stuff away from that sweet baby an’ throw it in the fire. Don’t you see he’s got a piece in his throat, Maria, pound him on the back I You know everythin’ goes in his mouth.” Seenie was much disgusted with her husband.

u Whew — ! Is you all right, Sammy? Ain’t goin’ to cry? Mustn’t try to eat up your lesson paper.” Uncle Sam walked up and down the long room saying absently:

“When he’s six he’ll be through the Brighton school an’ ready for college days. There’s one thing botherin’ me, Seenie, what he’ll do when he l’arns more than all his teachers — who’ll show him then?”

“Seems to me when he knows more’n the Creator hisself he’ll need no teachin’.” Seenie still scoffed and sniffed at all that was said.

“Now, Sammy, we’ll have your readin’ an’ spellin’ lesson, an’ this shows him how to think too an’ talk as well.” The bright colored blocks were put on the floor and Uncle Sam began with his usual enthusiasm: “This is A an’ this is B an’ C. AB — AB. BA — BA. That’s the way to spell, Sam’l. Now, ain’t he doin’ fine? You know, Maria, that he c’n see these are not the same, an’ soon he’ll be puttin’ words together an’ thinkin’ it’s jest play. Make l’arnin’ play an’ they take to it fine. His figurin’ ’ll be easy ’cause I’ll show him with them dom’noes. I wants to find out what he likes the best an’

give him plenty of it for we should all run to a p’int an’ what ’ll it be with Sam’l? I won’t make no farmer of him if he ain’t took that way, no sir — ee. I’m hopin’ that it ’ll be writin’ so’s we c’n git the book up in good shape but it may be paintin’ pictures or houses mayhap, but if we don’t talk baby nonsense to him he’ll be a smart little chap ’fore long helpin’ his mind in its work. They got to l’arn an’ why not do it the right way for you can’t overdo the thing ’s some think. The more you stack up the more you can, jest usin’ all you want an’ there’s more to call for when you need it. If you carry a calf can’t you carry a cow? so ’tis with l’arnin’, an’ folks ’s jest beginnin’ to find out they didn’t know much goin’ a roun’ ’bout way an’ makin’ failur’s after years of book teachin’.”

“Them progidy’s mostly turn out bad an’ end in the mad house,” remarked Seenie, beginning to be disturbed by her husband’s new hobby.

“Shucks! Sam’l ain’t no real progidy, but jest a ready-made one by new ways. He’ll bs ’s likely ’s any other boy wantin’ to play an’ swap marbles an’ fly kites, but he’ll know a heap. Oh, if I had his chanct.” Uncle Sam sighed as he spoke. “Ed’cation ’s that which can’t be took from us.”

“Sam, if you’d been so mighty ed’cated a good man’d gone to waste. If you’d been a lawyer you’d been tricky; an’ doctors jest cut folks to pieces an’ men with money can’t rest for wantin’ other folks’ too. I’m glad you’re jest plain man, but I do wish that you was more like other folks, not alwus gittin’ these notions.”

“Wa’al, Seenie, folks jest live the onct an’ why not live it right? If we was all like you nuthin’ but Fulton’s steamboat ’d be goin’ on the Hudson, an’ how I do regret not bein’ able to take Sam’l to that cel’bratin’ so’s he could see all that’s been done in the last three hundred years an’ see an airship flyin’ roun’ ’bout Liberty Lady.” Uncle Sam was seeking an opportunity to express himself of his latest plan and seizing this opening he promptly began :

“Ed’cation in the young is got by travel, an’ I cal’late that one of the best ways to ed’cate Sam’l ’d be to take him on a long trip. I’ve been studyin’ his future an’ I seem to see the chanct for him in the West. There’s room to grow up broad ’ithout crampin’ of civ’lization, for the great prairie kentry breathes freedom an’ his sky line ’ll be much bigger there.” Seenie broke in sharply as she clattered the dishes.

“Sam Saylor, where you think you’re goin’ now? Don’t cuddle no notion that you’re goin’ to git me into any of your trips for I ain’t goin’ no further than the barn to see after the cows an’ you can come ’long an’ help.” She slammed the coffee pot to show disapproval of what was to come while her husband looked calmly at her with his mild eyes as was his custom.

“Pshaw! My folks ain’t no travelers, but if you wish to see the gran’ an’ glowin’ West come ’long with me an’ Sam’l for we’re goin’ to take up a claim an’ I’ll be fixed to suit my fancies at last.”

“Your fancies have been many, an’ I’ll not be one to send sich a rollin’ stone a-gatherin’ of no more moss, for when I married you ’twas for the purpose of givin’ your girls a good home sence you’d never seen fit to make one for ’em. Now Lissie would take up with any wild idee but as for me — I’m that wise to jest nip it right in the bud so no harm’s done by its growin’ ; an’ the only claim you should take up is a claim for lunacy to my mind.” She stopped for breath, her fat face very flushed with indignation.

“Now, you’ve had your say, I’ll please to have mine. This is the scope of my latest an’ best plan. We might jest ’s well lay claim to some of them idle lands as the next one, an’ my idee’ll bring in more than this farm which ain’t the best land.”

“Don’t you go to runn'in’ down Andy’s farm, Sam Saylor, for I knows you can't find no better the worl* over, an’ as for me I’m willin' to [ 8 ]

stay an’ farm this no ’count strip, go where you’re a mind to, but there ain’t goin’ to be no latchkey hangin’ out, ’member that.” She spoke with decision, but her husband was undisturbed, and he turned to his daughter:

“Maria, don’t heed what Seenie says for she ain’t pergressive an’ you an’ me must think of this fine boy leadin’ me into this ventur’.”

“Pa, I’m not favorin’ it for you know we ain’t never had any luck travelin.’ Think what a time we had in Florida — how our tents blew away, and the awful pole cats that ran off with the food; the mosquitoes and sand flies eating us up, and lack o’ money.” A bright spot glowed in Maria’s cheeks at the recollection. Seenie was pleased.

“Maria, you’re young yit an’ don’t understand things alwus. I was short on cash and I couldn’t git hold of a hoss or mule to farm with an’ I had no win’ mill an’ it was too blasted hot to work.” Uncle Sam crossed the room with his long, swinging stride, and he soon returned with an old battered satchel which he opened meditatively, waiting for Seenie’s remarks which came promptly:

“Jest you take away that old rattletrap which has seen ’nough travelin’ from its looks.”

“Seenie, wouldn’t you like to have nuthin’ to do, jest let others make your livin’ for you?”

“Thought you said everybody should work,

Sam?” She spoke spitefully, eyeing him coldly.

“By all reason they should, but if by this same reasoning they can find out a better way they should take to it mighty quick. I make a guess that if we start with Angora goats ”

“Goats!” exclaimed his wife incredulously.

“Yes, goats, Seenie, them’s what’s in my mind.”

“Sam, you’re cracked an’ no mistake.” But Uncle Sam was undisturbed by her consternation regarding his new plan.

“To begin with, they can cl’ar the lan’ livin’ on sprouts an’ tree tops, an’ you know that goat meat is not outdone by the best, besides we c’n have the goat milk, givin’ us a finer dairy than here by a long shot. Now I figur’s — here it’s in black an’ white — that a drove of two hundred will bring in a thousand a year — easy money, too. After a few years we c’n grub out the lan’ for plantin’ an’ let them goats have a run of a hundred to a thousand acres an’ they pay for ’t. Why, folks, it’s been done in Missouri, they’ve paid for lan’ costin’ five per acre, five, too, on the savin’ of cl’arin’; then we c’n raise apple orchards. There’s smsll risk for goats as they enjoy good health on the prairies for they ain’t many dogs nor hunters. They make increase of sixty percent, an’ if we wanted to fence that ’d be the biggest expense. [io]

“Now, listen, folks, an’ see this ’mazin’ result:

Goats. Kids. Culls.

$2,500

“Now, see it, Maria an’ Seenie, down on paper.”

“I see them crazy lookin’ figur’s but plans on paper never yit made a dollar ’ithout work behind it all.”

“Shucks, Seenie! Wait till you hear all the plan. Now them goats, kids an’ culls, ’ll ’ve planted an’ paid for one hundred and sixty acres of good lan’ that planted to peach an’ plum from our own tree stock which we’ll raise ’ll make us free for life.”

“Sam, you couldn’t raise nuthin’ on the side of a tropic mountain, but if you could talk yourself rich you’d be rollin’ in shiny dollars. Ain’t no race suicide ’mong goats.”

“Seenie, all the big things of life has to be planned by somebody, an’ now that I’ve laid before you my aims are you willin’ to follow me to the big West?”

“Thought you was goin’ to Or’gon jest the t’other day to raise fine apples, Sam?”

“Wa’al, them poor fellers that are settin’ out there waitin’ for the railroad to come don’t need my s’iety an’ you know I wouldn’t live where there ain’t no trains runnin’.”

“Laws, that’s jest the place you should live so’s you’d have to set awhile.” Seenie enjoyed her little joke to the discomfiture of her husband who felt that his dignity had been assailed by such banter.

“Sam, I knows your failin’s too well to give things over to sich a loose rein, an’ you know good an’ well if we started you’d never stop till you got to the ocean, an’ then you’d want to cross over so’s we’d never git back home.”

“What dif’rence? There’s jest ’s fine pickin’ other places.”

“We’d have the pickin’s of poverty did we trust ourselves to your tender care, Sam, an’ go where you please I’m goin’ to stick to the farm, Andy’s farm.” A mournful expression in the kindly face caused her to look at him more sympathetically for in her heart Seenie disliked to refuse Sam anything, but he didn’t know it.

“Wasn’t you an’ Lem goin’ to raise alfalfa?” inquired Maria, as she tossed up the baby.

“We did cal’late on it some but them goats ’d be a fine sight better, an’ if Lem’ll go ’long with me we’ll jest leave you women folks to home. Maria, I’m goin’ to git a worl’ for the [12]

boy so’s he c’n begin soon on his travelin’ study an’ I c’n l’arn with him for there’s more places I’d like to go to some day when Seenie ain’t so set like.”

“Mercy sakes! Hope you won’t find out no more soon.” Seenie was still out of sorts for it always made her uneasy when Sam began his wanderin’ fit as she termed it. Left alone the two women looked inquiringly at one another.

“Isn’t it dreadful how he wants to fly ’bout, Maria?”

“Yes, we alwus had so much trouble with pa, but ma never objected to doing anything he wanted — seems ’s if she was willing to go as much ’s he was — they were like two children, an’ I’m glad you hold him in check. Why, we used to start on a trip an’ not have ’nough money to go halfway, but pa never minded nor did ma, an’ we got through somehow. Pa has never thought of the morrow, he says use the best an’ you’ll alwus have the best, but that ain’t my notion. I’ll take certain poverty to uncertain riches. But the delight of pa’s life is planning an’ making these fortunes on paper, an’ I tell Lem that he should have been one of these promoters. But he’s so interested in the baby’s education now that he may forget his trip an’ those goats.”

Uncle Sam came briskly into the room, his face alight with a new proposition which he had found in the paper he carried.

“Seenie, jest you look at this a minute. Now I has found my chanct an’ no mistakin’. Hark while I reads it to you an’ Maria :

“ ‘Orange County opened up in South Texas. Will give you a fine home cheap. Railroads and best markets. Finest garden spot in all the world. Rich men going there. Can raise anything desired — fruits and vegetables and hogs and fine cattle and ’ ”

“Goats!”

“Now you hesh, Seenie, while we talks this over, for I’m goin’ for sartin.”

“Stop the train for your pa to git on, Maria, an’ good-bye Sam. Hopes you have luck for onct and finds that chanct, for I’m weary hearin’ ’bout it day in an’ day out.”

“Folks, this is the last time o’ askin’, an’ you ort to listen to reason. Op’tunity never knocks twice, an’ don’t you hear it knockin’ loud now ”

“No, Sam, but I do hear some one poundin’ at the front door. Go an’ see who ’tis.” Seenie brushed back her hair and waited expectantly.

“I hope nuthin’ ’s happened to Vallie — for who c’d be cornin’ at this hour? I told Jimmy I’d whip her if she stayed late, an’ I’m goin’ to do it. She should be here at home but Sam was set on her goin’ ’long with the rest picnicin’. He’ll make the child more no-’count, for he thinks she must have what the rest gits an’ never turn her hand to work. Maria, what will we do with your pa ? You c’n see that he’s goin’ to git off’n the farm if he can, an’ I’m ’bout wore out tryin’ to hold him. The baby’s the only hope — sweet, pinkey darlin’, come to me, then.

“Sammy, Sammy, c’n you keep him here?” Seenie was very serious as she talked to the little fellow, and in reply he said: “goo — goo —gurgle.”

[I5l

Chapter II. Strangers

“Evenin’, strangers. What c’n I do for you?”

“We’ve had an accident with our car, and as it is now late, we do not know what arrangements to make for the night.”

“I’ll be more ’n glad to help you out, sir. Walk right in, and have supper with us ; Seenie’s fixin’ it now — jest waitin’ for Vallie an’ Jinny to come home.” Without more ceremony Uncle Sam ushered them into the living room where his wife awaited the new arrivals.

“This is my wife, second one, Seenie Saylor, an’ I’m jest plain Sam Saylor, Traveler.”

“My mother and sister, Mrs. and Miss Randolph.” The young man smiled pleasantly as he presented the ladies.

“This is my oldest daughter, Mis’ Barnes, an’ she ’s the mother of Sam’l. Ain’t he a fine boy?” He spoke with pride as he tossed up the baby. “Sam’l, you been playin’ with my hat, ain’t you, an’ set flat on it? Wa’al, this hat ’s had a right smart history; I sends it into the house afore me an’ if it stays I follow; if not I don’t, for it tells how the weather is — [16]

squalls or fair sailin’, eh, Seenie? He, he, he!”

She did not reply, occupied in a study of their guests, garbed in auto wraps. Richard said he would go and see how great the damage had been to the car. Leaving them he was busily engaged in his task when he saw coming toward him a young girl, carrying in her hand clusters of wild roses. Her hat wreathed about a face suffused by unusual radiance, as rich in color as the roses she had plucked. She seemed to be the incarnation of joy as a snatch of song passed her lips unheeded. Suddenly she became aware of his presence and he smiled and said boyishly :

“Is this Miss Saylor? We are intruding upon your father’s kind hospitality for I do not believe we will be able to proceed on our journey to-night.” He had in that moment, when his eye had met hers boldly come to this decision, for the romance of the meeting seemed to have aroused more than a passing interest.

Together they passed up the flower bordered path, talking with animation for she was brimming over with life and he had caught the infection; appearing before the others as though already they were friends. Uncle Sam was saying :

“My! Wouldn’t I like to have one of them autos for a body c’d travel all the time.”

“I think ’tis the last thing you need, Sam, for I’d never know where you was day nor night.”

“This is my little girl, Vallie, an’ I c’n see she’s had a good time to-day by the way she’s smilin’.”

“It’s jest ’cause she had a new feller.” The interruption came from an awkward girl who had bolted into the room, her dress was torn and face very dirty.

“You, Jinny! Go an’ wash up them hands an’ fix the table for supper. Why ain’t you come home before when you know I told you not to be late?”

“Vallie an’ that feller walked so slow an’ I was waitin’ on ’em. Oh, Uncle Sam, we had the bulliest time an’ had our pictures took an’ I was eatin’ of a chicken leg an’ ”

“Go, Jinny, not ’nuther word. Don’t you see we has company for supper?”

“What’s your name?” She addressed Mrs. Randolph boldly, and continued before the latter could reply:

“She’s your gal, ain’t she? I knows it by her face but she’s a sight better lookin’ than him

” pointing a grimy forefinger at Vallie’s

companion.

“Jinny!” Seenie gave her a look that made her hurry from the room. At the door she said in her loud voice :

“He ain’t near so pretty ’s the other one.

An’ he stuck by Vallie the hull day an’ Belle didn’t like it.”

“Jinny! Wash up them hands ’fore you touch the dishes. She is a pest but Sam will keep the child. Her ma’s dead an’ I can’t seem to do anythin’ with her. She’s sharp ’nough an’ knows everythin’ goin’ on till seems sometimes she’s more cunnin’ than jest ord’nary folks, like she’s seein’ right in your mind an’ it makes a budy creep.”

“Vallie, I was jest talkin’ ’bout takin’ a trip to Texas where we c’n raise them Magnolia figs an’ make a heap.” Uncle Sam’s mind was overflowing with his plan.

“Sam is alwus wantin’ to take some new idee,” remarked his wife bitterly, “an’ it keeps me all stirred up. You know there’s good chances right under our own hearth stun’.” She rose saying:

“I’ll git supper on for no tellin’ what Jinny’s up to. Sam c’n talk to you for he’s alwus ready with his tongue.”

Mrs. Randolph had become very much interested in the family group, especially had she been attracted to the laughing baby whose eyes were large and brown like clear mirrors.

“I’ve jest been tryin’ to git the folks to go West for it’s the place to raise the boy an’ then, too, the travelin’ ’d bring him out a sight. I’m ed’catin’ him by special plan with cal’n’dars, [ 19 ]

blocks, dom’noes an’ the globe. Don’t you think there’s a sight of sense in the idee that we c’n all be Websters if we git the right start? Do our folks ’fore us have to be very l’arned?” This was the point which puzzled Uncle Sam and he seized the opportunity to broach the subject with some one who was as interested as his guest in all he said.

“I believe that you will have much success by following your practical methods. Sam’l watches me so intelligently as though he understood every word.”

“He may do it, ma’am. I talk to him ’s if he did any way, an’ it’ll help to bring him ’long in time. I’m a tryin’ this suggestin’ power on Sam’l an’ I tell him that he’ll be a gran’ man some day. I don’t think it pays to tell a child he’s mean an’ goin’ to be meaner, but that he’s all right an’ it helps him git up ’stead of down. I’ve thought a heap ’long this line for I’ve alwus been might’ly took to little shavers an’ I think it’s the most needful work in all the work. Sam’l ’ll have the chanct I missed. I’ve got the work all planned out years ahead an’ when he’s out of school me an’ him ’s goin’ to write up the great ’Merican book that I’m startin’ for him now.” Uncle Sam moved over to an old easel that stood in a far corner upon which was an immense book. Mrs. Randolph smiled as she asked:

“Is that your book, Mr. Saylor?”

“Yep. I had an idee which I must put down too.” He sat down upon the high stool, and with serious mien he wrote slowly for some minutes, saying:

“Adam slipped down on Eve’s apple peelin’ an’ so man fell; Eve’s done slipped up on Adam an’ stole forbidden fruit an’ man’s down ag’in. Adam swapped a lemon for the apple an’ woman’s soured on man. Eve’s tired of that lemon an’ wants to swap back for a plum an’ she’ll keep shakin’ of the tree till she gets it. War ’s done been declar’d ’twixt Adam an’ Eve, an’ bein’ the keeper of the race Eve ’ll put up a mighty stiff fight for her own.”

Uncle Sam broke forth into a rollicking song he had learned from the miners of Virginia, those stalwart mountaineers whose true sentiments were expressed in their odd verse :

“ Ole Georgia Back ’s dead an } the last word he said

Was don’t never let your woman have her ways;

If you let her have her ways you’ll he in trouble all your days ,

Don’t never let your woman have her ways.”

“I has my ways,” broke in Seenie with spirit, coming to the door with the potato masher in [21]

her hand. “I have all the rights I wants, an’ jest let any man say I can’t have more ’f I wants ’em.”

“You don’t have your rights, Mrs. Saylor, so long as women are not allowed equal rights with men,” said Mrs. Randolph quietly. “You should want the great right, the right not to be dictated to by man. The yoke was placed on woman by man and she has worn it long enough. God intended that in all things of life woman should be man’s helpmate. He didn’t want her assistance and in consequence things are in chaotic condition. The man-made world has been a failure and now at last woman sees her duty and she never shirks. No matter what the struggle costs she takes the hard way and overcometh all obstacles. Man has taken the easy way, the way to please himself. He has made the man-laws; he has made the moral laws easy for man; he has made the social laws easy; he has made the commercial laws easy that he might prey upon others. He has made the marriage laws — a woman must obey and she is tired of it, and in consequence she revolts. Divorce scandalizes modern life and what is the solution? Self-dependence of women! Suffrage is the lever upon which her future rests. Until she raises herself to man’s level she will never uplift the race.

“The maternal instinct that broods over the [ 22 ]

cradle reaches out to the great home of the world where the spirit of woman is called to help in the struggle of humanity. Man is needed in the home and woman is needed in the world. They cannot go separate ways but hand in hand for final victory.”