It is the earth that guides the destinies of men. Where the soil is least productive and the crops are scant, man is the most savage. Those who spend their lives working in the fields absorb something of its strength. So had it been with Jethro Trent. Much of the strength of the soil had flowed into his veins. He was in tune with the soil. He understood its moods. And the soil responded. It was in tune with him.
And now once more in the farm of Linda Joel he had a great work before him. To make of that patch of desolation, a productive, cultivated place. He was thankful for the opportunity which had been unexpectedly supplied him. His own vast estates ran so smoothly, so systematically there was not much constructive planning for him to do. Many men were in his employ, men who had been trained under his tutelage.
There came a morning when by appointment
Samuel Gage in his ramshackle carriage
