General B. thundered.—“Give me that chair you are sitting on! Get out of that chair, and give it to me! I want this chair and intend to have it!”
“All right,” replied Newton, after a pause; “if this chair suits you better than the others, take it.”
Gen. B.—“You —— leatherhead radical! You sitting down there fanning yourself!”
Newton.—“I am fanning myself, sitting in my own office, and attending to my own business.”
Gen. B.—“You vile brute, you! You want to have a bullet-hole put through you before you can move!”
At this juncture old man Baker and one of his followers, pistols in hand, reinforced the General, and Tommy rode as close to the door as possible, with his trusty carbine, while others appeared outside.
Newton arose, and taking his chair by the back, turned the seat of it toward General Baker, and, still holding the back with both hands, said:
“There it is, Gen. Baker, if you want it; and you can shoot me, if you want to. Mr. Robert Baker, you know what sort of a man I am. I have always tried to behave myself when you came in the office.”
Robert B.—“Yes, but” (with an oath) “this drilling has got to stop. I want you to go for Rives.”