CHAPTER I.
THE HIDDEN VOICE.
"Well, gentlemen, I propose we get to business. I for one have no time to waste, and there are plenty of us present for a beginning," and the speaker glanced approvingly around the room.
He was a tall, powerfully-built man, aged probably forty-five years, of a rugged, yet intelligent and almost handsome cast of features; while the rough "home-made" garments that he wore disguised without hiding the splendid contour of his form. There was the slightest possible tinge of the "brogue" to his speech, that would have told a close observer the land of his nativity.
"I second the motion," piped out a shrill, quavering voice, as a tall, skeleton-like body abruptly shot up to its full hight, and then sunk down with a jar upon his stool, as all eyes were turned upon the speaker, while he vehemently scrubbed at his face with an enormous yellow cotton handkerchief, to hide the confusion he felt at thus "speaking out in meeting."
"Thank you, friend Hannibal Hooker," bowed the first speaker. "But first we will have something to—Landlord! Jim Henderson, I say!" roared out he who appeared to take the lead in the meeting, bringing down his huge sun-embrowned, toil-hardened fist upon the table before him, with such force, that it seemed as if the deal would split, while Hannibal Hooker convulsively leaped from his stool with a faint squeak.
"Thunder 'n' lightnin', Cap'n Neil," uttered a deep, rumbling voice, as the door opened and a man thrust his head through the aperture, "am I deaf, thet you need to t'ar the house down? What d'ye want?" and he entered the room.
It was like a mouse with a lion's voice. Scarcely five feet and built in proportion, the new-comer spoke with a voice such as we imagine the giant Magog to have used, it was so full deep and sonorous. But, if not consistent with his body, it was with his heart, for "Honest Jim Henderson" was a by-word, for use to typify truth and fidelity, among his neighbors.
"Bring us something hot and hearty, avic, for our throats will need wetting before we get through," responded he whom the landlord called Captain Neil.
"I protest, gentlemen! I protest most emphatically against this proceeding!" exclaimed a short, rotund personage, bouncing upon his chair the better to be observed. "Must we depend upon intoxicating liquors to enable us to form our plans? I say no, a thousand times no! With such supports, our downfall—"