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He returned to his comrades and reported what he had seen, but all agreed with him that they should cross the river, despite the encampment on the far shore, and make the attack from the north. "We'll do like that old Roman, Hannybul," said Long Jim, "hit the enemy at his weakest part, an' jest when he ain't expectin' us." "Hannibal was not a Roman, Jim," said Paul.
He wuz some kind o' a furriner, an' ef what you tell us 'bout him is true, Paul, as I reckon it is, it wuz his mind that led his men on to victory over the Rooshians an' the Prooshians an' the French an' the Dutch." "Over the Romans, Sol." "Ez I told you once, Paul, it makes no diff'unce. They're all furriners, an' all furriners are jest the same. Hannybul wuz the kind that wouldn't give up.
You've got to think what kind o' a gen'ral is leadin' the warriors ag'inst you. You must take his mind into account. Ain't that so, Paul? Wuzn't it true o' that old Roman, Hannybul?" "Hannibal was not a Roman, not by a great deal, Sol, as I told you before." "Well, he wuz a Rooshian, or mebbe an Eyetalian. What diff'unce does it make?
The Romans already feel the hands o' the warriors on thar skelps, an' they are tremblin', ready to run. But Hannybul swings his rifle, clubs the leadin' Injun over the head with it, an' yells to his men: 'Come on, fellers! Draw your hatchets an' knives! Drive 'em into the brush! We kin whip 'em yet! An' the Romans, gittin' courage from thar leader, go in an' thrash the hull band.
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