"I judged so from your face. Better get what rest you can; we shall have
twenty miles to ride before dark. I'll go over into the timber there an'
feed the horses."

I watched him cross the open land, impressed by the man's immense
shoulders and short limbs. I could scarcely analyze the influence he
already exerted over me, but I felt him to be a natural leader of men, an
intellectual as well as physical giant. I picked up a book lying open on
the bench--it was an English translation of a famous French treatise on
Democracy; within its pages was Payne's pamphlet on the Rights of Man,
its paper margins covered with written comments. This blacksmith was not
only a man of action, but a man of thought also. I lay down on the bench,
pillowing my head on one arm, thinking of him as I first saw him kneeling
alone in prayer, and the simple words of his petition came back to me
with new power. Then my mind drifted to the strange commingling of human
elements in this adventure--to Mistress Claire, and her connection with
Grant, and the intimate knowledge Farrell apparently possessed of them
both. Somehow I was becoming more and more deeply involved in these
lives, and I began to wonder how it was all destined to end. Was the
coming night to add a new chapter? If so, would it be the last? Reviewing
it all, lulled by the silence, I fell asleep.




CHAPTER X

WITH MINUTE MEN