“Where’s this here fort?”
“In the city,” says he.
“We’re goin’ there?”
“Horse, f-foot, and artillery,” says he.
“When?”
“First t-train.”
“That’s one o’clock.”
“Yes. All git ready. Be at the depot. Now h-hustle.”
“We’ll be there,” says I, and so did Tallow and Binney.
You bet we’d be there. Nothing short of an earthquake helped out by a cyclone and a hurricane and a ton of dynamite could have kept us away, for we knew something big was going to happen. Mark Tidd was mad. He was mad all the way through, like I had never seen him before, and he was going after a bigger fight than he had ever been in. I wouldn’t have missed seeing it to be invited to dinner by the President.