There'll be a way, a way to do this work! What a man _must_ do, he _can_ do!" Up came Armstrong's chin, as he walked.

His shoulders squared, with strength and purpose, and his stride swung into the easy machine gait that had already carried him so many thousand miles along the hard and bitter highways of the world.
As he strode away, on the long road toward he knew not what, words seemed to form and shape in his strengthened and refortified mind--words for long years forgotten--words that he once had heard at his mother's knee: "_He that ruleth his spirit is better than he that taketh a city!_".