“Well, that’s a way I do not understand. Whose is it?” said Major Welch, so stiffly that the other changed his tone.
“Well, the fact is, Colonel, to be honest about it,” he said, “this here place belongs to me; but I was born on this here place, not exactly in this house, but on the place, an’ I always thought’t if anything was to happen—if my son Wash, the Doctor, was to git married or anything, and take a notion to set up at Red Rock, I might come back here and live—you see?”
The Major was mollified. He had not given the man credit for so much sentiment.
“Of course, if you really wants it—?” began Still, but the Major said, no, he would not insist on one’s making such a sacrifice; that such a feeling did him credit.
So the matter ended in Still’s proposing to lease the place to the Major, which was accepted, Major Welch agreeing to the first price he named, only saying he supposed it was the customary figure, which Still assured him was the case. He pointed out to him that the land was unusually rich.
“What’s the name of the place?” asked Ruth.
“Well, ’tain’t got any special name. We call it Stamper’s,” Still said.
“Stamper—Stamper?” repeated the Major. “Where have I heard that name?”
“You might ’a heard of him in connection with the riot’t took place near here a few years ago, when a dozen or so soldiers was murdered. ’Twas up here they hatched the plot and from here they started. They moved away from here, and I bought it.”
It was not in this connection that the Major recalled the name.