“And you were all picked out as men who wouldn’t balk at a bit of a mix-up. But you weren’t told what it is all about.
“Well, then, this is the game: down there in Carlina where we are going there is a one-horse republic where they used to have a dinky little kingdom. A republic is all right when it’s an honest republic, but this one isn’t. It was stolen, and stolen from the finest woman in the world. I’m going to give you all a chance to see her some day, and I know you’ll throw up your hats then and say the game is worth it, if you don’t before.”
Their faces were as stolid as though they could not understand a word of what he was saying. But he had lost sight of them and saw only the eyes of the girl of whom he was speaking.
“Once, when she was a little girl, they put her in prison. And it wasn’t a man’s prison either, but a mangy, low-down, dog kennel. Think of it! Put her down there in the dark among the rats. But that was too much for the decent ones of even that crowd, and they had to let her go. So now she lives in a little house in her kingdom, like a beggar outside her own door.”
Danbury had worked himself up to a fever pitch. His words came hoarsely and he stepped nearer in his excitement. But as he paused once more, he realized that he was facing a pack of dummies. For a moment he stared at them in amazement. Then he burst out,
“Are you with us, men? Haven’t we something worth fighting for––something worth fighting hard for?”
He heard a rough guffaw from a few men in the rear; then a voice:
“It’s the dough we’re out fer––no damned princess.”