“We welcome you as brothers! We want you to stay with us. We offer you the blessings of peace and freedom. We do not meet you with guns. We come with smiles and flowers, extend our hands and say: ‘God bless you!’ ”
The orator was swept away with the melodious sound of his own voice. He replaced his crushed hat and extended his hand in a smile of glowing enthusiasm.
With a sudden crash the silver-mounted riding-whip whistled through the air and tore through the orator’s tile. The battered hat fell into pieces and dropped to the ground revealing an ugly red lane across the great man’s shining bald pate.
Barker was too dumfounded to dodge or protest. The thing happened with such swiftness, it had stunned him into silence.
Pike danced nervously on first one foot and then the other, lifting his hands in little attempts at apologies.
“Hats off in the presence of your superiors!” the General thundered.
Pike’s hat was already off. He hadn’t ventured to put it on. Still he ducked his head instinctively and then rushed into the breach.
“My dear General,” he pleaded. “You do not understand, I am sure. No possible offense could have been intended by my distinguished colleague. It is the custom of our country often to speak with hats on in the open air. The Honorable Plato Barker is a veteran outdoor speaker, your Excellency. He is one of the most distinguished men in America—”
“That is nothing to me,” the General curtly interrupted. “He stands in the presence of an officer of his Imperial Majesty’s Army. Your greatest civilian is my inferior. Keep that in mind when in the presence of your superiors—proceed!”
Barker was too astonished and hurt to say more. For the first time in his illustrious career as a peddler of words, he had failed to move his audience to accept his wares at any price. His world had collapsed. He could only rub the swelling red line on his head and glance uneasily about his unpromising surroundings.