Langdon's eyes were big with the afterglow of a fighter discussing the
mighty struggles of the past, those most precious of all the jewels in
the treasure store of a soldier's memory.

"Why, it might have been a bullet fired by you, sir," he cried. "It
might be that you were the man who almost killed me. Why, confound
you, sir, I'm glad to meet you!"

Each old veteran of tragic days gone by had quite unconsciously
awakened a responsive chord in the heart of the other. A Senator and
a penniless old "down and outer" are very much the same in the human
scale that takes note of the inside and not the outside of a man.
And they fell into each other's arms then and there, for what strong
fighter does not respect another of his kind?

There they stood, arms around each other, clapping each other on the
back, actually chortling in the pure ecstasy of comradeship, now
serious, again laughing, when on the scene appeared Bud Haines, the
correspondent, who had returned to interview the new Senator from
Mississippi.

"Great heavens!" ejaculated the newspaper man. "A Senator, a United
States Senator, hugging a broken-down old 'has-been!' What is the
world coming to?" Haines suddenly paused. "I wonder if it can be a
pose;--merely for effect. It's getting harder every day to tell what's
genuine and what isn't in this town."