lade of knighthood, and Caleb Gordon's toil-rounded shoulders
straightened visibly when he returned the hearty hand-grasp. And as for
Thomas Jefferson: in his heart gratified pride flapped its wings and
crowed lustily; and for the moment he was almost willing to bury that
private grudge he was holding against Major Dabney--almost, but not
quite.
VII
THE PRAYER OF THE RIGHTEOUS
Having come thus far with Thomas Jefferson on the road to whatever goal
he will reach, it is high time we were looking a little more closely
into this matter of his grudge against Major Dabney.
Primarily, it based itself upon the dominant quality in a masterful
character; namely, a desire to possess the earth and its fullness
without partnership encumbrances.
From a time back of which memory refused to run, the woods and the
fields of Paradise Valley, the rampart hills and the backgrounding
mountain side, had belonged to Thomas Jefferson by the right of
discovery. The Bates boys and the Cantrells lived over in the great
valley of the Tennessee, and when they planned a fishing excursion up
Turkey Creek, they recognized Thomas Jefferson's suzerainty by
announcing that they were coming over to _his_ house. In like manner,
the Pendrys and the Lumpkins and the Hardwicks were scattered at
farm-width intervals down the pike, and the rampart hills marked the
boundary of their domain on that side.
Now from possession which is recognized unquestioningly by one's
compeers to fancied possession in fee simple is but a step; and from
that to the putting up of "No Trespass" signs the interval can be read
only on a micrometer scale. Wherefore, Thomas Jefferson had developed a
huge disgust on hearing that Major Dabney was going to upset the natural
order of things by bringing his granddaughter to Deer Trace Manor. If
Ardea--the very name of her had a heathenish sound in his
Scripturally-trained ear--had been a boy, the matter would have
simplified itself. Thomas Jefferson had a sincere respect for his own
prowess, and a boy might have been mauled into subjection. But a girl!
His lip curled stiffly at the thought of a girl, a town girl and
therefore a thing without legs, or at best with legs only half useful
and totally unfit for running or climbing trees, dividing the
sovereignty of the fields and the forest, the swimming-hole and the
perch pools in the creek, with him! She would do it, or try to do it. A
girl would not have any more sense
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