nd, he
went, by way of paradox, to the tenderest, most sublime spot in a book
supreme in tenderness and sublimity.

At forty, he owned and, with the aid of two hired hands, worked an
entire section of land. The law said it was his and he had the might
to back up the law. On these six hundred and forty broad acres he could
have lived without the rest of the world. Here he was King. Other
farms he regarded as foreign countries, their owners with impersonal
suspicion. Yet he trusted them after a fashion, because he had learned
from many and devious dealings with a large assortment of people that
the average human being is honest, which is to say that he does not
steal his neighbor's stock nor fail to pay his just debts if given
plenty of time and the conditions have the explicitness of black and
white. He knew them to be as mercenary as himself, with this only
difference: Where he was frankly so, they pretended otherwise.
They bothered him with their dinky deals, with their scrimping and
scratching, and their sneaky attempts to hide their ugliness by the
observance of one set day of sanctuary. Because they seemed to him so
two-faced, so trifling, so cowardly, he liked to "stick" them every time
he had a fair chance and could do it within the law. It was his favorite
game. They worked so blindly and went on so stupidly, talking so
foolishly, that it afforded him sport to come along and take the bacon
away from them.

All held him a little in awe, for he was of a forbidding bearing, tall,
grave and thoughtful; accurate in his facts and sure of himself; slow to
express an opinion, but positive in his conclusions; seeking no favors,
and giving none; careful not to offend, indifferent whether he pleased.
He would deceive, but never insult. The women were afraid of him,
because he never "jollied." He had no jokes or bright remarks for them.
They were such useless creatures out of their particular duties. There
was nothing to take up with them. Everyone rendered him much the same
respectful manner that they kept on tap for the leading citizens of the
town, David Robinson, for instance. Indeed, Martin himself was somewhat
of a banker, for he was a stockholder and director of the First State
Bank, where he was looked up to as a shrewd man who was too big even
for the operation of his magnificent farm. He understood values. When it
came to loans, his judgment on land and livestock was never disputed. If
he wanted to make a purchas