Chapter IX
Hung Long Tom made no effort to arouse him. He, too, like Jethro Trent, was a firm believer in the soil. Seldom could one find more complete rest than could be found on the warm bed of earth. Rare earth that is the very foundation of all life. Like a tailor he sat beside Scobee. Patiently he sat and thought and waited. For hours he remained there in the deep silence of the fields beside the sleeping boy. There was something beautiful in the deep hush of the night. The yellow moon dipped slowly from sight below the far horizon. A breeze rippled gently through the nearby fields, stirring the wheat, sounding like low laughter. The breeze was joyous. It could not understand the confusion
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