Never had he left home for college that his father had not
made personal inspection of his shoes to see that they were fit for
the journey, but on this departure they had been forgotten. He sat
down and took off the failing equipment. It was too far gone to do
anything temporary with it; and of discomforts a loose sole to one's
shoe in walking is of the worst. The only thing was to take off the
other shoe and both stockings and go barefoot. He tied all together
with a piece of string, made them fast to his deerskin knapsack, and
resumed his walk. The thing did not trouble him much. To have what
we want is riches, but to be able to do without is power. To have
shoes is a good thing; to be able to walk without them is a better.
But it was long since Donal had walked barefoot, and he found his
feet like his shoe, weaker in the sole than was pleasant.
"It's time," he said to himself, when he found he was stepping
gingerly, "I ga'e my feet a turn at the auld accomplishment. It's a
pity to grow nae so fit for onything suner nor ye need. I wad like
to lie doon at last wi' hard soles!"
In every stream he came to he bathed his feet, and often on the way
rested them, when otherwise able enough to go on. He had no certain
goal, though he knew his direction, and was in no haste. He had
confidence in God and in his own powers as the gift of God, and knew
that wherever he went he needed not be hungry long, even should the
little money in his pocket be spent.
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