“You just got to Chicago?”
“Only today. But I aim to see the Cap’n in the mornin’. That is,” he added sarcastically, “if he’s dressed to receive vis’ters.”
“He should be grateful for your warning.”
“No, I don’t calc’late he’ll do anythin’ ’bout it.”
“Well, why not?” protested Ben. “Maybe, if he’d send a batch of troopers into western Illinois, it’d cool off the Hawk’s war fever.”
“Bless you, Ben, the Cap’n ’ll never heed me. He’ll say it’s all a mess o’ gossip.”
“But why?”
“Because he’s a macaroni.”
“A macaroni?”
“Yep, a macaroni, meanin’ a dude sojur. He thinks that all he has to do is strut the parade ground in that Fancy Dan uniform o’ his, an’ every painted Injun this side o’ the Rocky Mount’ins ’ll be struck dumb with fear.”