How Rex Did His Best

Outside the village cobbler's shop a group of soldiers had stacked their guns. The cobbler himself, his musket in his hand and a knapsack slung over his shoulder, stood in the doorway. There were tears in his wife's eyes, though she tried to smile bravely as she stroked the thick dark hair of the boy by her side.

"Good-by, Mary," said the cobbler. "Good-by, Rex. Take good care of each other. As soon as the war is over, I'll come home."

"Good-by, Father. Why can't I go to the war, too?"

His father looked at the pale face and the hump on the back, which kept Rex from playing like other boys.

"Never mind, Rex. We must have soldiers at home as well as on the battle-field. Do your best, and you'll help us to win quite as much as if you fought by my side."

Then the father took his place in the line and marched off to the front. The fifes and drums kept up the spirits of the brave men as well as of the brave women who were left behind.

Rex turned back into the house and went straight to his father's bench. "If I can't fight, Mother," he said, "I can mend these shoes. I'm glad father taught me." And taking up the hammer and awl he went sturdily to work.

Some months later a soldier hurried into the house. Rex noticed that he limped and that the sole of orie shoe was flapping.

"Is there any one here who can mend my shoes?" lie asked, looking at Rex. "There's a bad nail that I can't reach in one, and unless the other is fixed, I shall soon be barefoot."

"I think I can," answered Rex. "My father has gone to the war. But he has taught me some things about his trade. I'll do my best for you, anyway."

"Here you are, then," said the soldier, tossing the shoes to him. "Arid flurry! I must be at camp by midnight."

Rex set to work with a will, while the soldier looked on with interest. He noted the pale face and the hump, which bent the boy almost double over the shoes.

The troublesome nail was soon hammered down and the surface smoothed. To mend the flapping sole, however, was a longer and more difficult task. But the boy's awl pierced the leather as swift and true as if it had been in the hands of his father. The waxed ends of the threads quickly followed and a strong tug drew them tight.

"Here you are, sir," he said at last. "My father would have mended them better. But I have done my best."

The soldier drew the shoes on. "Well," he said, "those feel better. Any father with a boy who can mend shoes as well as that ought to be proud of him. Here, take this card. When the war is over, come to me and I will see what I can do for you."

Rex looked at the card and gasped. It was the name of one of the officers in his father's company. "Why, you are my father's officer!" exclaimed Rex.

"Am I? I hope that he is as good a soldier as his son is a cobbler. And when he comes home, my boy, tell him this. You have helped me to carry messages which may save your father's life and help to win our next battle."

Then, tossing a coin into the boy's lap, he hurried to the door, leaped into his saddle, and was gone.

Some days later Rex heard the news of a great victory.

"Only think, Mother!" he exclaimed. "We won! I wonder if I really did have something to do with the battle!"

"Shoeless men can't carry messages or fight their best for us," answered his mother, smiling into the eager face.

"I'm glad that I learned something about father's trade, and could sew quickly," Rex said as they sat down to the supper table. "Crooked backs that do their best can be of use after all."