will. Dick!" he called sharply to the slave. "Hitch up that air wagon,
fill hit full o' bacon and meal, and drive it up thar to my tent. An' be
mighty damn quick about it, or I'll hang you, too."

The negro gave a swift glance to his master, and Flitter Bill feebly
waved acquiescence.

"Purveyor, I wish you good-day."

Bill gazed after the great captain in dazed wonder (was this the man who
had come cringing to him only a few short weeks ago?) and groaned aloud.

But for lucky or unlucky coincidence, how could the prophet ever have
gained name and fame on earth?

Captain Wells rode back to camp chuckling--chuckling with satisfaction
and pride; but the chuckle passed when he caught sight of his tent. In
front of it were his lieutenants and some half a dozen privates, all
plainly in great agitation, and in the midst of them stood the lank
messenger who had brought the first message from Black Tom, delivering
another from the same source. Black Tom _was_ coming, coming surer and
unless that flag, that "Rebel rag," were hauled down under twenty-four
hours, Black Tom would come over and pull it down, and to that same
poplar hang "Captain Mayhall an' his whole damn army." Black Tom might
do it anyhow--just for fun.

While the privates listened the captain strutted and swore; then he
rested his hand on his hip and smiled with silent sarcasm, and then
swore again--while the respectful lieutenants and the awed soldiery of
the Callahan looked on. Finally he spoke.