“And how did you make conquest of this Ely?” questioned the General, his eye gratified and spirit a mate for Noah's.
“The power of the press, I should call it,” laughed Noah. “The ignoble Ely hath a mighty distaste of unfriendly ink. And I'm an editor. That was it,” went on Noah; “I showed him what might be done. He should stand in the pillory of my types for the reasonless defamer he was. Then the dog trembled and came my way with meekness, asking what he should do. I answered much like the monks with the wild Clovis, 'Bend thy neck, proud Sicambrian; adore what thou hast burned, burn what thou hast adored!' In short, I demanded a letter of retractory amends to the President; and also that he name his fellow reptile, whose infamous word he claimed for the truth of his scurrility.”
“And who is he?” demanded the General, as warm as ever I saw him.
By some virtue of telepathic sort, I read the answer before Noah uttered it. And why had I not guessed before! The secret one so falsely in the ear of the shallow Ely was none other than the unctious Reverend Campbell.
CHAPTER VIII—THE MAD CAPRICIOUS PEG
Next morning the sun had not climbed over-high when the Reverend Campbell, head down and secret eye aslant, came shuffling to call upon the General. I caught the black shadow of him—for all the world like the shadow of some vulture to sail between one and the sun—as the drooping, furtive creature sidled through the hall. The General had sent for him, for the General was not one to let the grass grow deep between resolve and action.
“I will see the man alone, Major,” observed the General; “he might complain, were you present, of a situation offering two against one and planned to over-ride him.”
Such management was much to my appetite, since it would but serve to boil my anger—this listening while the Reverend Rogue laid out his pack of calumnies upon Peg. In good truth! I much misdoubt if I had withstood my hands from him when under such honest provocation; and that, maugre his black surtout and pulpit snuffle.