Taylor and Rives stood in the door of the tent watching the conflict.
"Never be afraid of a great man, Sweeney!" Stuart went on. "The greater the man the easier it is to get along with him. General Lee wears no scarlet in his coat, no plume in his hat, no gold braid on his uniform. He's as plain as a gray mouse—"
Stuart laughed and whispered:
"He's too great to need anything to mark his rank. But he never frowns on my gay colors."
"He knows," Taylor rejoined, "that it's your way of telling the glory of the cause."
"Sure! He just laughs at my foolishness and gives me an order to lick a crowd that outnumbers me, three to one."
He took hold of Sweeney's arm.
"Don't be afraid, old boy. Marse Robert won't frown on your banjo.
He'll just smile as he recalls what the cavalry did in our last battle.
Minstrel man, make yourself at home."
Sweeney timidly touched the strings, and Stuart wheeled toward Rives.
"Well, Senator, how goes it in Richmond?"