"Say! he struck me."
"Struck you?" asked the commodore, starting in surprise.
Grant smiled. "I mean," said he, "that he struck me metaphorically. I don't believe he would have hurt me as badly, if he had really struck me. I was never so cut in all my life. I came away feeling that I had committed an unpardonable sin from a military standpoint."
"Then he would not hear to the proposition at all?"
"Hear it! He would not listen to me. I came away resolving never to ask another favor of him. Yet so anxious am I to make this campaign that, as you know, I swallowed my pride and united with you in making the request that we be allowed to make the movement."
"It is strange," replied the commodore, "that he should ignore both our requests, not favoring us even with a reply. Yet it seems that he must see that Fort Henry should be reduced at once. If we delay, both the Cumberland and the Tennessee will be so strongly fortified that it will be almost impossible to force a passage. Everything is to be gained by moving at once. Everything may be lost by delay."
"Even a civilian ought to see that," replied Grant, as he slowly blew a cloud of smoke from his mouth, and watched it as it lazily curled upward.
"The truth of it is," Grant continued slowly, as if weighing every word, "too many of us are afraid that another general may win more honor than we. Then there are altogether too many separate commands. Now, here are Buell and myself; each with a separate command, yet both working for the same object. I should either be subject to the command of Buell, or he should be subject to my orders. We are now like two men trying to lift the same burden, and instead of lifting together, one will lift and then the other. Such a system can but prolong the war indefinitely."
"General," said the commodore, earnestly, "I sincerely wish you had the supreme command here in the West. I believe we would see different results, and that very soon."