"Have you arms enough for all of them?"
"Arms? Let the Yankees count on our not having arms, and they will meet with a surprise party. In two hours' notice we can have from eight to ten thousand men ready to march."
"No doubt of it, Doctor; but how do you expect to get two hours' notice?"
"Lord bless you, Webster, we have men watching the movements of the Yankees at Cairo, and the minute they make a move we are notified. Then our signal gun is fired, and every man is mustered."
"A good arrangement, truly," said the detective quietly.
"You look as if you could do some hard fighting yourself, Mr. Webster," remarked Colonel Dalgetty.
The detective smiled.
"I have been fighting against great odds for the past two months in Baltimore. The last battle I fought was to get away from there with my life."
"Yes, and we are confounded glad to receive you here," exclaimed the enthusiastic Doctor, shaking Webster by the hand for the twentieth time. "Come, gentlemen, we must have another drink. Step up and nominate your 'pizen.'"
The glasses were filled, and some one proposed the toast: "Death to the Yankees!" Under his breath, however, the detective muttered, "Confusion to the rebels!" and drained his glass. The toast was no sooner drank than Lieutenant Stanley, who was evidently beginning to feel the influence of the liquor he had drank, took off his uniform hat and put it on Webster's head.