“Corinth went over the top on every drive through this man,” said Pinkney proudly.
The expression “over the top” grated on Hamilton. It was the same phrase McCall had used in describing his coming operation.
“Weren’t you the first man to use ‘over the top’ to describe exceeding a quota?” asked Pinkney.
“Some say I was,” smiled Griffith. “But I’ve got to be going, folks. I’m mapping out a campaign to cover the entire United States.” He leaned over the desk, and drew diagrams on it with his finger as he spoke. There were hard, practical lines about his mouth, and his eyes narrowed almost to slits. “See, we’ll cover every section. We’ll have a perfect military organization with a commander-in-chief at the head.”
He went on, sketching rapidly with his forefinger on the mahogany his idea of a feudalistic system that would make the Tribe all powerful in the United States. There were strategic positions to be carried at all costs—certain localities in each state which offered an easy entrance. There were districts, corresponding to congressional districts, that must be covered by an army of Bogeys. Here was a citadel hard to break through. Here a breach in the walls. He waxed more and more enthusiastic over his plan. His words came more and more forcibly. His forefinger flashed faster and faster. His eyes gleamed. He leaned over the desk and pounded on it with his fist.
A transformed figure, Hamilton thought, from the man who had slouched against the wall when he had first entered—an almost fanatical leader, carried away with an idea. The plan was made up of bits of military science, of salesmanship, perhaps picked up through some correspondence course, of the technique of carrying on drives. Out of his miscellaneous reading, evidently, and out of an idea upon which he had been brooding perhaps for years, this man had evolved his huge “campaign.” Hamilton guessed that he was a few years above the draft age and reflected ironically what might have happened if Griffith, with his almost insane imagination, had been placed in charge of a body of troops in France.
“And we’re going to have you with us, Captain Hamilton,” exclaimed Griffith at last, shaking hands and making for the door. “Got a blank? All right, let him fill it out. The concilium meets Tuesday night. Only a few more days and we can get him in on this. Well, I’m glad I met you, Captain.”
Griffith put on his soft felt hat a little to one side and walked out. Hamilton made a movement as if to follow, too.
“Wait a minute, Robert, fill this out!”
Pinkney removed a card from his drawer and handed it to Robert.