CHAPTER VI

THE BRIDGE OF DREAMS


"And then, Major, hell broke loose! Dave stood up and--" Tom Cantrell's
eyes snapped and he slashed with his crop at the bright andirons that
held the flamed logs.

"No, Major, it wasn't hell that broke up, it was something inside me. I
felt it smash. For a moment I didn't grasp what Taylor was saying. It
sounded so like the ravings of an insane phonograph that I was for being
amused, but when I found that he was actually advising the mayor to
refuse our committee the use of the hay market for a bivouac during the
Confederate reunion, I just got up and took his speech and fed it to him
raw. I saw red with a touch of purple and I didn't know I was on my feet
and--"

"Major," interrupted Andrew Sevier, his eyes bright as those of Kildare
and his quiet voice under perfect control, "Judge Taylor's exact words
were that it seemed inadvisable to turn over property belonging to the
city for the use of parties that could in no way be held responsible. He
elucidated his excuse by saying that the Confederate soldiers were so old
now that they were better off at home than parading the streets and
inciting rebellious feelings in the children, throwing the city into
confusion by their disorderly conduct and--"