"
"But, Gordon!" gasped Stedman. "Albert! You don't understand. Why,
man, this isn't a street-fight or a cane-rush. They'll stick you full
of spears, dance on your body, and eat you, maybe. A flag of
truce!--you're talking nonsense. What do they know of a flag of
truce?"
"You're talking nonsense, too," said Albert, "and you're talking to
your superior officer. If you are not with me in this, go back to your
cable, and tell the man in Octavia that it's a warm day, and that the
sun is shining; but if you've any spirit in you--and I think you
have--run to the office and get my Winchester rifles, and the two
shot-guns, and my revolvers, and my uniform, and a lot of brass things
for presents, and run all the way there and back. And make time. Play
you're riding a bicycle at the Agricultural Fair."
Stedman did not hear this last, for he was already off and away,
pushing through the crowd, and calling on Bradley, Sr., to follow him.
Bradley, Jr., looked at Gordon with eyes that snapped, like a dog that
is waiting for his master to throw a stone.
"I can fire a Winchester, sir," he said. "Old Tom can't. He's no good
at long range 'cept with a big gun, sir. Don't give him the
Winchester. Give it to me, please, sir."
Albert met Stedman in the plaza, and pulled off his blazer, and put on
Captain Travis's--now his--uniform coat, and his white pith helmet.
"Now, Jack," he said, "get up there and tell these people that we are
going out to make peace with these Hillmen, or bring them back
prisoners of war.
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