Adam Gaudylock, he knew, had spoken to his father, but Gideon had given no sign.

Suppose, no matter _who_ spoke, his father would give, forever, no other sign than that oft seen and always hated jerk of the head toward the tobacco-fields?
Gideon Rand took his pipe from his lips.

"It's Mr.Jefferson," he answered laconically.

"He's the one man in this country to whom I'd listen." Jefferson rode up to the group about the camp-fire, checked his horse, and gave the tobacco-roller and his son a plain man's greeting to plain men.

The eagerness of the boy's face did not escape him; when he dismounted, flung the reins of Wildair to his groom, and crossed the bit of turf to the fire beneath the pines, he knew that he was pleasing a young heart.