About taking it, he never thought at all.

He once had permission from the owner to dig all the shrubs, bushes, and weeds he desired from that stretch of woods, and had paid for possible damages that might occur.

As he bent to the task there did come a fleeting thought that the patch was weedless and in unusual shape for wild stuff.

Then, with swift strokes of his light mattock, he lifted the roots, crammed them into his sack, whistled to Belshazzar, and going back to the wagon, drove away.

Reaching home he washed the ginseng, and spread it on a tray to dry.