The road was no longer solitary. Other slow-rolling casks of tobacco
with retinue of men and boys were on their way to Richmond, and there
were white-roofed wagons from the country beyond Staunton. Four strong
horses drew each wagon, manes and tails tied with bright galloon, and
harness hung with jingling bells. Whatever things the mountain folk
might trade with were in the wagons,--butter, flour, and dried meat,
skins of deer and bear, hemp, flaxseed, wax, ginseng, and maple sugar.
Other vehicles used the road, growing more numerous as the day wore into
the afternoon, and Richmond was no longer far away. Coach and chaise,
curricle and stick-chair, were encountered, and horsemen were frequent.

In 1790 men spoke when they passed; moreover, Rand and Gaudylock were
not entirely unknown. The giant figure of the one had been seen before
upon that road; the other was recognized as a very able scout, hunter,
and Indian trader, restless as quicksilver and daring beyond all reason.
Men hailed the two cheerily, and asked for the news from Albemarle, and
from Kentucky and the Mississippi.

"Mr. Jefferson is coming home," answered Rand; and "Spain is not so
black as she is painted," said the trader.

"We hear," quoth the gentleman addressed, "that the Kentuckians make
good Spanish subjects."

"Then you hear a damned lie," said Gaudylock imperturbably. "The boot's
on the other foot. Ten years from now a Kentuckian may rule in New
Orleans."

The gentleman laughed, settled back in his stick-chair, and spoke to his
horse. "Mr. Jefferson is in Richmond," he remarked to Rand, and vanished