"He says he's pledged to Master—that chap who's come up here with a bag o' money. Do you think Master has bought him?"
"I don't think so. I suppose he could be bought, but—but I never knew of his taking money. The boys of the back country swear by the Emperor; they look up to him. Fact is, Sile Strong is a ——— —— good fellow."
His oath seemed to contradict his affirmation.
"He's like a rock," said Migley. "The glad hand don't make any impression. What ye going to do with a man who won't drink or talk or swap lies with ye? I could put the poor devil out of house and home, but he don't seem to care."
"We'll turn him over to the Congressman," Socket answered. "He'll bring him into camp. If not we can get along without him."
The fact was the "Emperor of the Woods" was not like any other man they had to deal with—in history, character, and caliber.
He used his brain for a definite purpose—"to think out thoughts with," as he was wont to say, and if his heart approved of them they were right, and he could no more change them than a tree could change its bark or its foliage.
As yet the arts and allies of the flatterer had no power over him. He was content and without any false notion of his own importance.