"Well, Chief, I followed you four years in the war, an' I've never showed the white feather yet, but these is ticklish times. There's a powerful lot er damfools gettin' ermongst us, an' I want ter ax ye one question?"
"What?"
"Are ye goin' ter git drunk ter-night?"
John walked to Dan's side and placed his hand on his shoulder, and said slowly:
"I'll never touch another drop of liquor as long as I live. Does that satisfy you?"
"I never knowd a Graham ter break his word."
John pressed the mountaineer's hand.
"Thanks Dan."
"I'm with you—and I'll charge the mouth of the pit with my bare hands if you give the order."
"Good. Meet me at the spring in the woods behind the old cemetery at eleven o'clock to-night with forty picked men."
"Forty!—better make it an even thousand, man for man with the Yanks."
"Just forty men, mark you—picked men, not a boy or a fool among them."
"I understand," said Dan, turning on his heel toward the door.
"And see to it"—called John—"I want them mounted on the best horses in the county and every man armed to the teeth."
