THE TWO CANDIDATES
The town, established forty years before this April morning, had been
named for a Princess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz, lately become Queen of
England. During the Revolution it had been the scene of a raid of
Tarleton's and a camp of detention for British prisoners. It was the
county seat to which three successive presidents of the United States
must travel to cast their votes; and somewhat later than the period of
this story it was to rub elbows with a great institution of learning. No
city even in our own time, it was, a hundred years ago, slight enough in
size to suit the genius for tempered solitude characteristic of a
tobacco-growing State.
A few dwelling-houses of frame and brick rose from an emerald mist of
gardens, and there were taverns, much at the service of all who came to
town with money in their purse. The Swan allured the gentlefolk of the
county, the coach-and-four people, Jehus of light curricles, and riders
of blooded horses. The Eagle had the stage-coach patronage, and thrice a
week blew a lusty horn. Besides the inns and the dwelling-houses there
were stores and a half-built church, the Court House, and the shady
Court House yard.
For a great part of the time, the Court House, the centre of gravity for
the county, appeared to doze in the sunshine. At stated intervals,
however, it awoke, and the drowsy town with it. Once awake, both became
very wide awake indeed. Court days doubled the population; an election
made a beehive of the place.
It was the fourth Wednesday in April, and election day. A man was to be
sent to the House of Delegates at Richmond. All likelihood was upon the
side of the candidate of the Democrat-Republicans, but the Federalists
had a fighting chance. There were reasons why this especial election was
of great interest to the county, and the motto of both parties was "No
malingering!" Early in the morning, by the Three-Notched Road, the
Barracks Road, and the Secretary's Road, through the shady Thoroughfare,
over the misty Rivanna, the Hardware, and the Rapidan, the county began
to pour electors into Charlottesville. They came upon wheels, on
horseback, and afoot; the strong and the weak, the halt and the blind,
the sick and the well, the old and the young, all the free men of
Albemarle, all alert, all pleasurably excited over the prospect of the
fight.
Without the Court House yard, under the locust trees to the right of the
open gate, were placed long tables, and on them three mighty
punch-bowls, flanked by drinking-cups and guarded by house servants of
venerable appearance and stately manners. Here good Federalists
refreshed themselves. To the left of the gate, upon the trampled grass
beneath a mulberry, appeared other punch-bowls, and in addition a barrel
of whiskey, ready broached for all good Democrat-Republicans. The sunny
street was filled with horses, vehicles, and servants; the broad path
between the trees, the turf on either hand, and the Court House steps
were crowded with riotous voters. All ranks of society, all ages,
occupations, and opinions, met in the genial weather, beneath the trees
where sang every bird of spring.
Within the Court House the throng, slight at first, was rapidly
increasing. The building was not large, and from end to end, and on the
high window-sills beneath the long green blinds, the people pushed and
shoved and stood a-tiptoe. It was yet early morning, and for some
unexplained reason the Federalist candidate had not arrived.
Upon the Justice's Bench, raised high above the crowded floor, sat the
candidate of the Democrat-Republicans--the Republicans, pure and simple,
as they were beginning to be called. Near him stood the sheriff and the
deputy-sheriff; around him pressed committee-men, heelers with tallies,
vociferous well-wishers, and prophets of victory, and a few, a very few,
personal and private friends. On the other hand, strongly gathering and
impatiently awaiting their candidate, his foes gloomed upon him.
Everywhere was a buzzing of voices: farmers and townspeople voting
loudly, the sheriff as loudly recording each vote, the clerk humming
over his book, the crowd making excited comment. There was no
ballot-voting; it was a _viva voce_ matter, and each man knew his
fellow's creed.
Lewis Rand sat at ease, a tall and personable man, with the head of a
victor, and a face that had the charm of strength. The eye was keen and
dark, the jaw square, the thick brown hair cut short, as was the
Republican fashion. His dress was plain but good, worn with a certain
sober effect, an "it pleases me," that rendered silk and fine ruffles
superfluous. He was listening to a wide-girthed tavern-keeper and old
soldier of the Revolution's loud declaration that Lewis Rand was the
coming man, and that he was for Lewis Rand. The old county wanted no
English-thinking young Federalist in Richmond. "Too many Federalists
there a'ready! Mr. Lewis Rand, Mr. Sheriff!"
The Republicans applauded. The custom of the time required that the man
voted for should thank the man who voted, and that aloud and aptly, with
no slurring acknowledgment of service. Lewis Rand, a born speaker and
familiar with his audience, was at no loss. "I thank you, Mr. Fagg! May
your shadow never grow less! The old county--Mr. Jefferson's county,
gentlemen--may be trusted to hold its own, in Richmond or in Washington,
in Heaven or in Hell! Mr. Fagg, I will drink your health in punch of the
Eagle's brewing! Your very obliged friend and servant!"
From street and yard without came a noise of cheering, with cries of
"Black Cockade! Black Cockade! The party of Washington--Washington
forever!--The old county for Cary!--Albemarle for Cary!--The county for
a _gentleman!_"
"Mr. Ludwell Cary has arrived," announced the sheriff.
"Here comes the gentleman!" cried a man from a windowsill. "Stand up,
Lewis Rand, and show him a man!"
The throng at the door parted, and with a Federalist and distinguished
following the two Carys entered, the elder quiet and smiling, the
younger flushed, bright-eyed, and anxious. The attachment between these
two brothers was very strong; it was to be seen in every glance that
passed between them, in every tone of voice used by each to the other.
The elder played fond Mentor, and the younger thought his brother a
demi-god. They were men of an old name, an old place, an inherited
charm. "Ludwell Cary!" cried a mail. "Long live Ludwell Cary!"
Rand left the Justice's Bench, stepped forward, and greeted his
opponent. The two touched hands. "I trust I see you in health, Mr.
Cary?"
"Mr. Rand, I thank you, I am very well. You are early in the lists!"
"I am accustomed to early rising," answered Rand. "This morning I have
ridden from the Wolf Trap. Will you sit?"
"Ah," said Cary, "I rode from Fontenoy. After you, sir!"
They sat down, side by side, upon the Justice's Bench, the Federalist
very easy, the Republican, lacking the perfection of the other's
manner, with a stiffness and constraint of which he was aware and which
he hated in himself. He knew himself well enough to know that presently,
in the excitement of the race, the ugly mantle would slip from the
braced athlete, but at the moment he felt his disadvantage. Subtly and
slowly, released from some deep, central tarn of his most secret self, a
vapour of distaste and dislike began to darken the cells of clear
thought. As a boy he had admired and envied Ludwell Cary; for his
political antagonist, pure and simple, he had, unlike most around him,
often the friendliest feeling; but now, sitting there on the Justice's
Bench, he wondered if he were going to hate Cary. Suddenly an image came
out of the vapour. "How long has he been at Fontenoy? Does he think he
can win there, too?"
The younger Cary marched to the polls with his head held high, and voted
loudly for his brother. The latter smiled upon him, and said with
simplicity, "Thank you, Fair!" The Republican candidate looked
attentively at the young man. The spirit and the fire, subdued in the
elder brother, was in the younger as visible as lightning. Rand was
quick at divining men, and now he thought, "This man would make a
tireless enemy."
Following Fairfax Cary came another of the group who had entered with
the Carys. "Mr. Peyton votes for Mr. Ludwell Cary!" cried the sheriff.
The Federalists applauded, the Republicans groaned, the tallymen took
note, and Cary bowed his thanks. "Mr. Peyton, your very humble servant!
Mount Eagle and Greenwood are old comrades-at-arms!"
"I'll kill _your_ vote, Craven Peyton!" came a voice. "I vote, Mr.
Sheriff, for Lewis Rand!"
"Ludwell Cary!" cried another, "and there's a killer killed, Dick
Carr!"
"I'll draw a bead on you, Gentry!" put in a third. "The best shot in the
county, Mr. Sheriff, and that's Lewis Rand!"
"Lewis Rand stands ten ahead!" cried a committee-man; and the sheriff,
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! order at the polls!"
A small, wizened man, middle-aged and elaborately dressed in much
ancient and tarnished finery, came bowing through the crowd. A curled
wig shadowed a narrow face, and lace ruffles fell over long-fingered
hands, yellow as old ivory. The entire figure was fantastic, even a
little grotesque, though after a pleasant fashion. In a mincing voice
and with a strong French accent, M. Achille Pincornet, dancing-master
and performer on the violin, intimated that he wished to vote for Mr.
Ludwell Cary. Lewis Rand glanced sharply up, then made a sign to a
sandy-haired and freckled man who, tally in hand, stood near him.
"I challenge that vote!" cried the man with the tally.
"Mr. Pincornet's vote is challenged!" shouted the sheriff.
"Order, order, gentlemen! Your reason, Mr. Mocket?"
"The gentleman is a Frenchman and not a citizen of the United States! He
is not even a citizen of the French Republic! He is an émigré. He has no
vote. Mark off his name!"
"Sir!" cried the challenged voter, "I am a de Pincornet, cadet of a
house well known in Gascony! If I left France, I left it to find a great
and free country, a country where one gentleman may serve another!"
A roar of laughter, led by Mocket, arose from the younger and lower sort
of Republicans. "But you do serve, Mr. Pincornet! You teach all the
'Well-born' how to dance!"
"Didn't you teach the Carys? They dance beautifully."
"Are brocaded coats still worn in Gascony?"
"_Ne sutor supra crepidam judicaret!_ Caper all you please on a waxed
floor, but leave Virginians to rule!"
Fairfax Cary, hot and angry, put in an oar. "Mr. Sheriff, Mr. Sheriff!
Mr. Pincornet has lived these twelve years in Albemarle! We have no more
respected, no more esteemed citizen. His vote's as good as any
man's--and rather better, I may remark, than that of some men!" He
looked pointedly at Mocket.
Lewis Rand gave his henchman a second guiding glance.
"It is merely," said Mocket promptly, "a question of that Alien Law of
which the 'Well-born' are so proud. Show your papers, Mr. Pincornet. If
you are a citizen of the United States, you have papers to show for it."
"Yes, sir," agreed the sheriff. "That's right, Mr. Mocket. Let me see
your papers, Mr. Pincornet."
"Papers, papers! I have no papers!" cried Mr. Pincornet.
"But every gentleman here--and I have no care for the canaille--knows
that I live in Albemarle, in a small house between Greenwood and
Fontenoy! I have lived there since I left France in the abhorred year of
'92, with tears of rage in my eyes! I came to this land, where, seeing
that I must eat, and that my dancing was always admired, I said to
myself, '_T'enez_, Achille, my friend, we will teach these Virginians to
dance!' Mr. Fairfax Cary has been my pupil, and it gives me pleasure to
vote for his brother to go make the laws for my adopted country--"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Pincornet," interrupted the sheriff, "but you have no
vote. I'll have to ask you to stand aside."
"Come up here, Mr. Pincornet," said Cary, from the Justice's Bench. "I
want to ask you about a gentleman of your name whom I had the honour to
meet in London--M. le Vicomte de Pincornet, a very gallant man--"
"That," said the dancing master, "would be my cousin Alexandre. He
escaped during the Terror hidden under a load of hay, his son driving in
a blouse and red nightcap. Will Mr. Cary honour me?" and out came a
tortoise-shell snuff-box.
The voting quickened. "Rand is ahead--Rand is winning!" went from mouth
to mouth. Fairfax Cary, caring much where his brother cared little,
welcomed impetuously the wave of Federalists which that rumour brought
in from the yard and street. "Ha, Mr. Gilmer, Mr. Carter, you are
welcome! Who votes? Who votes as General Hamilton and Mr. Adams and
Judge Marshall vote? Who votes as _Washington_ would have voted?"
So many crowded to vote as Washington would have voted, that it almost
seemed as though his shade might lead the Federalists to victory. But
the dead Washington must cope with the living Jefferson; mild monarchism
and stately rule with a spirit born of time, nursed by Voltaire and
Jean-Jacques Rousseau, grown articulate in the French Revolution, and
now full swing toward majority. When thrown, the Democrat-Republicans
rose from the earth like Antæus. Much of the gentle blood and many of
the prominent men of the county voted for Lewis Rand. Jefferson's
personal following of friends and kinsmen was large; these accepted his
man as a matter of course, while to the plain men of the county Lewis
Rand was more even than the coming man: he was of them; he was a plain
man. The clamour and excitement grew. "Here come the Three-Notched Road
people!" cried a voice. "They all rolled tobacco with Gideon Rand!"
The Three-Notched Road people voted to a man for the son of Gideon Rand,
and were promptly reinforced by a contingent of hot Republicans from the
Ragged Mountains. At ten o'clock Lewis Rand was again well ahead, but at
this hour there was a sharp rally of the Federalists. A cheering from
without announced the arrival of some popular voter, and Colonel
Churchill and his brother, Major Edward, and an array of Federalists
from the Fontenoy district, entered the Court House.
"The Churchills are coming, Oho! Oho!" sang out a wag perched on the
window-sill.
"Not to that tune," roared a Scot from the gallery. "Mon, they're
Tories!"
"Gentlemen, gentlemen! order at the polls!" shouted the sheriff.
"Colonel Churchill, for whom do you vote?"
"I vote, sir," cried the Colonel, "for Mr. Ludwell Cary, for a gentleman
and a patriot, sir, and may the old county never be represented but by
such!"
"Order, order at the polls! Colonel Churchill votes for Mr. Ludwell
Cary! Major Edward Churchill, whom do you vote for?"
"For whom do you suppose, Mr. Sheriff?" said the Major. "For Mr. Ludwell
Cary."
Cary rose from the bench and stepped forward to the edge of the
platform. "Colonel Dick, Major Edward, I thank you both. May I deserve
your confidence and your favour! Fontenoy is as dear to me as
Greenwood."
"By God, you shall win, Ludwell!" cried Colonel Dick. "Here's a regiment
of us to see you through!"
"Rome hasn't fallen yet," added Major Edward. "I don't hear the geese
cackling."
"One's cackling now," smiled Cary, and Mr. Tom Mocket stepped up to the
polls.
"It's not a goose; it's a turkey buzzard!"
"It's not feathered at all," said Fairfax Cary. "It's a mangy jackal to
a mangy lion."
The young man had spoken loudly and contemptuously. Rand, on the
Justice's Bench, and Mocket, in the act of voting, both heard, and both
looked his way. Ludwell Cary knit his brows, and meeting his brother's
eyes, slightly shook his head. Look and gesture said, "Leave abuse
alone, Fair."
Mocket voted for Rand. "I challenge that vote!" cried Major Edward
Churchill. "The man's been in prison."
Amid the noise that followed, the Jackal was heard to cry, "It's a lie!
Lewis, tell them it's a lie! Major Churchill, you'd better be careful! I
was acquitted, and you know it."
"Do I?" answered the Major coolly. "I know that you ought to be making
shoes in the penitentiary! Mr. Sheriff, you should really have this
courtroom sprinkled with vinegar. There's gaol fever in the air."
"I don't see, Mr. Sheriff," came Rand's voice from the Justice's Bench,
"that any more vinegar is needed. Gentlemen, all--whether Federalist or
Republican--I was Mr. Mocket's lawyer in the case referred to. Twelve
good men and true--men of this county--pronounced him innocent. It is
not surprising that my friends the Federalists should wish to gain
time,--they are leagued with old Time,--but I protest against their
gaining it by such means. This is not a matter of parties; it is a
matter of a man being held innocent till he is proved guilty. A hundred
men here can testify as to the verdict in this case. Mr. Mocket,
gentlemen--" He paused and regarded the sandy-haired and freckled Tom,
the brother of little Vinie, the sometime door-boy in Chancellor Wythe's
law office, with a smile so broadly humorous, humane, and tolerant, that
suddenly the courtroom smiled with him. "Tom Mocket, gentlemen, is a
scamp, but he's not a scoundrel! The election proceeds, Mr. Sheriff."
"I vote for Lewis Rand!" shouted the scamp out of the uproar. "Richmond
now, then Washington! We'll send Lewis Rand as high as he can go!"
"As high as the gallows!" growled Major Edward Churchill.
"Send him," said a voice in the doorway, "out West. Mr. Jefferson gained
Louisiana, but 'twill take a stronger man to gain Mexico. Mexico wants a
Buonaparte."
The day wore on with no lessening of heat and clamour. The Court House
becoming too full, men betook themselves to the yard or to the street,
where, mounted on chairs or on wagons from which the horses had been
taken, they harangued their fellows. Public speaking came easily to this
race. To-day good liquor and emulation pricked them on, and the spring
in the blood. Under the locusts to the right of the gate Federalists
apostrophized Washington, lauded Hamilton, the Judiciary, and the beauty
of the English Constitution, denounced the French, denounced the
Louisiana Purchase, denounced the Man of the People, and his every tool
and parasite, and lifted to the skies the name of Ludwell Cary. To the
left of the gate, under the locusts, the Republicans praised the
President of the United States and all his doings, and poured oblation
to Lewis Rand. From side to side of the path there were alarms and
incursions. Before noon there had occurred a number of hand-to-hand
fights, one, at least, accompanied by "gouging," and a couple of duels
had been arranged.
In the courtroom the parties jostled each other at the polls, and the
candidates, side by side upon the Justice's Bench, watched the day go
now this way and now that. Their partisans they must acceptably thank,
and they must be quick of wit with their adversaries. Fatigue did not
count, nor hoarseness from much speaking, nor an undercurrent of
consciousness that there were, after all, more parties than two, more
principles than those they advocated, more colours than black and white,
more epithets than hero and villain. They must act in their moment, and
accept its excitement. A colour burned in their cheeks, and the hair lay
damp upon their foreheads. They must listen and answer to men saying
loudly to their faces and before other men, "I hold with you, and your
mind is brother to my mind"; or saying, "I hold not with you, and you
and your mind are abominable to me! To outer darkness with you both!"
Sometimes they consulted with their committee-men, and sometimes punch
was brought, and they drank with their friends. Occasionally they spoke
to each other; when they did this, it was with extreme courtesy. Cary
used the buttoned foil with polished ease. Rand's manner was less
assured; there was something antique and laboured in his determined
grasp at the amenities of the occasion. It was the only heaviness. To
the other contest between them he brought an amazing sureness, a
suppleness, power, and audacity beyond praise. He directed his battle,
and at his elbow Tom Mocket, sandy-haired and ferret-eyed, did him
yeoman service.
At one o'clock there was an adjournment for dinner. The principal
Federalists betook themselves to the Swan; the principal Republicans to
the Eagle. The commonalty ate from the packed baskets upon the trampled
grass of the Court House yard. An hour later, when the polls were
reopened, men returned to them flushed with drink and in the temper for
a quarrel, the Republicans boisterous over a foreseen victory, the
Federalists peppery from defeat. In the yard the constable had to part
belligerents, in the courtroom the excitement mounted. The tide was set
now for Lewis Rand. The Federalists watched it with angry eyes; the
Republicans greeted with jubilation each new wave. The defeated found
some relief in gibes. "Holoa! here's Citizen Bonhomme--red breeches,
cockade, and Brutus crop!
"Ah, ça ira, ça ira, ça ira!"
"That man ran away from Tarleton!--yes, you did, the very day that Mr.
Jefferson--a-hem!--_absented_ himself from Monticello!"
"Challenge that man--he deserted in the Indian War!
"November the fourth, in the year ninety-one,
We had a sore engagement near to Fort Jefferson!"
"Here's a traveller who has seen the mammoth and climbed the Salt
Mountain!"
"Here's a tobacco-roller! Hey, my man, don't you miss old friends on the
road?"
Under cover of the high words, laughter, and vituperation which made a
babel of the courtroom, Cary spoke to his opponent. "Mr. Rand, do you
remember that frosty morning, long ago, when you and I first met? I came
upon you in the woods, and together we gathered chinquapins. Does it
seem long to you since you were a boy?"
"Long enough!" answered Rand. "I remember that day very well."
"We told each other our names, I remember, and what each meant to do in
the world. We hardly foresaw this day." "It is not easy to foresee,"
said Rand slowly. "If we could, we might--"
"We might foresee our last meeting," smiled Cary, "as we remember our
first." He took a glass of wine from a passing servant and put it to his
lips, "To another meeting, in the wood!" he said, "since I may not quite
drink to your victory."
"Ah, my victory!" answered Rand. "When I have it, I don't know that I
shall care for it! That's a handsome youth, your brother--and he has
worked for you like a Trojan! I'll drink to your brother!"
"Here are the Green Spring folk!" cried a voice. "They always vote like
gentlemen!"
The Green Spring folk were a squadron, and they voted Cary again within
sight of the goal. A man who had been standing just without the open
door rested his long musket against the wall and advanced to the polls.
"Last time I voted here," he said, "'twas for Mr. Jefferson. I reckon
I'll have to vote to-day for Lewis Rand."
A tumult arose. "Adam Gaudylock belongs upon the Mississippi!--He isn't
an Albemarle man!--He's a Kentuck--He's a Louisianian--He's a subject of
Jefferson's new kingdom!--Challenged!--He can't vote in Albemarle!"
The hunter waited for the uproar to cease. "You Federalists are mighty
poor shots!" he exclaimed at last. "You make no account of the wind. I
am subject of no man's kingdom. I trade in New Orleans, and I travel on
the great rivers, and I've friends in Kentucky, and I hunt where the
hunting's good, but when I want to vote I come back to my own county
where I was born, and where I grew up among you all, and where I've yet
a pretty piece of land between here and the mountains. I voted here
before, and I'll vote here again. The Gaudylocks may wander and wander,
but their home is on the Three-Notched Road, and they vote in
Albemarle."
The vote standing, and Adam being followed by a string of hunters,
traders, and boatmen, the Republican candidate was again and finally in
advance. The winds blew for him from the four quarters. In the last
golden light of the afternoon there was a strong and sudden muster of
Republicans. From all directions stragglers appeared, voice after voice
proclaiming for the man who, regarded at first as merely a protégé of
Jefferson, had come in the last two years to be regarded for himself.
The power in him had ceased to be latent, and friend and foe were
beginning to watch Lewis Rand and his doings with intentness.
As the sun set behind the Ragged Mountains, the polls closed, and the
sheriff proclaimed the election of the Republican candidate.
The Court House was quickly emptied, nor was the Court House yard far
behind. The excitement had spent itself. The result, after all, had been
foreknown. It drew on chilly with the April dusk, and men were eager to
be at home, seated at their supper-tables, going over the day with
captured friends and telling the women the news. On wheels, on horseback
or afoot, drunk and sober, north, south, east, and west, they cantered,
rolled, and trudged away from the brick Court House and the trampled
grass, and the empty bowls beneath the locust trees.
The defeated candidate and the successful shook hands: Cary quiet and
smiling, half dignified and half nonchalant; Rand with less control and
certainty of himself. The one said with perfection the proper things,
the other said them to the best of his ability. Young Fairfax Cary,
standing by, twisting his riding-whip with angry fingers, curled his lip
at the self-made man's awkwardness of phrase. Rand saw the smile, but
went on with his speech. Colonel Churchill, who had been talking with
Adam Gaudylock, left the hunter and came up to Cary. "Ludwell, you and
Fair are not going to Greenwood to-night! I have orders from the ladies
to bring you back to Fontenoy--alive or dead!"
"I find myself very much alive, Colonel!" answered Cary. "Thank you,
I'll gladly spend the night at Fontenoy. Fontenoy would draw me, I
think, if I _were_ dead!"
"Dick has a middling Madeira," remarked Major Edward. "And after supper
Jacqueline shall sing to us. Good-evening, Mr. Rand!"
"Good-evening to you, Major Churchill," said Rand. "Good-evening, Mr.
Cary. Good-evening, gentlemen!"
"Here are Eli and Mingo with the horses," said Fairfax Cary, his back to
the Republican. "Let's away, Ludwell!"
Colonel Churchill laughed. "Fontenoy draws you too, Fairfax? Well, my
niece Unity is a pleasing minx--yes, by gad! Miss Dandridge is a
handsome jade! Come away, come away, gentlemen!"
Federalists and Republicans exchanged the stiffest of bows, and the
party for Fontenoy mounted and took the road. The Republicans whom they
left behind had a few moments of laughter and jubilation, and then they
also quitted the Court House yard and called to the servants for the
horses.
"You'll spend the night at Edgehill, I hope, Mr. Rand?" cried one. "Mrs.
Randolph expects you--she will wish to write to her father of your
day--"
"No, no, come with me!" put in another. "There's all this business to
talk over--and I've a letter to show you from Mr. Madison--"
"Best come to the Eagle!" cried a third. "No end of jolly fellows, and
bumpers to next year--"
Rand shook his head. "Thank you, Colonel Randolph--but I am riding to
Monticello. Mr. Jefferson has written for some papers from the library.
Burwell will care for me to-night. Present, if you will, my humble
services to Mrs. Randolph and the young ladies. By the same token I
cannot go with you, Mr. Carr, nor to the Eagle, Mr. Jones.--My grateful
thanks to you, one and all, gentlemen! I am a plain man--I can say no
more. We will ride together as far as the creek."
The negro Joab brought his horse, a magnificent animal, the gift of
Jefferson. He mounted and the party kept together as far as the creek,
where their ways parted. Rand checked his horse, said good-bye, and
watched the gentlemen who had given him their support ride cheerfully
away toward the light of home. He himself was waiting for Adam
Gaudylock, who was going with him to Monticello. After a moment's
thought he decided not to wait there beside the creek, but to turn his
horse and leave a message for Tom Mocket at a house which he had passed
five minutes before.