It was nice to hear that; it meant that, maybe, I wouldn't have to get rid of him after all. "Anyway," I said, "your men appear to be the only ones active on Sergeant's behalf."
He took it without flinching. "Then we need help," he said. "Can you provide it?"
"I can get you guns," I said. "Volunteers. Supplies."
There was a little pause.
"Who do you think you are?" Hollerith said. "God?"
I didn't tell him that, from his point of view, I was inhabiting the other half of the theological universe. Somehow, it didn't seem necessary.
The men started to arrive in a week, some of them carrying supplies and armaments for all the rest. Hollerith was beside himself with joy, and even Huey stopped looking at me with suspicion. In the meantime, I'd been living with the guerrillas, eating and sleeping with them, but I hadn't been exactly trusted. There'd been a picked group of men set to watch over me at all times, and I managed to get a little friendly with them, but not very. In case I turned out to be a louse, nobody wanted to have to shed tears over my unmarked grave.
Until the men arrived, there weren't any raids; Hollerith, very sensibly, wanted to wait for my reinforcements, and he carried most of the group with him. Huey was all for killing me and getting on with normal operations; I don't think he had any real faith in me even after the reinforcements began to arrive.