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That Gen'ral Canby, who later gets downed by the Modocs, is on the Rio Grande at Fort Craig. While we're pirootin' about in a blind sort o' fashion we ropes up one of Canby's couriers who's p'intin' no'th for Fort Union with despatches. This Gen'ral Canby makes the followin' facetious alloosion: After mentionin' our oninvited presence in the territory, he says: ""But let 'em alone.
Whatever partic'lar wagon-track do you-all follow off, may I ask? "It's then this old gent an' I la'nches into a gen'ral discussion onder the head of mes'lancous business, I reckons, an' lie puts it up his long suit, as he calls it, is `moral epidemics. He says he's wrote one book onto 'em, an' sw'ar:; he'll write another if nobody heads him off; the same bein' on-likely.
"'Seein' me so ready with them argyments, an' so dead pertinacious to go, this yere trooper begins to act oneasy, like his resolootion gets shook some. At last he gridds his teeth together like his mind's made up. "" Look yere, boy," he says, "do you know who our Gen'ral is?" ""No," I says, "I don't."
An' for a hour, mebby, followin' his advent, seein' the gen'ral herd is busy with the mail, he has the Red Light to himse'f. "On this yere o'casion, thar's likewise present in Wolfville he's been infringin' 'round some three days a onsettled an' migratory miscreant who's name is Ugly Collins.
It's to be some swap too, runnin' up into six figures. "Chee!" thinks I. "That's an income, all right, with Tractions payin' between 7 and 9, besides cuttin' a melon now and then." They have their gen'ral offices three floors below us, you know.
Jest the same, if them Injuns is comin' to braid his tail an' braid it tight, that mule couldn't feel more frantic. "When these yere faithful mules takes to surgin' about the scene on two feet, Moon's nephy grabs a Winchester an' pumps a load or so into the darkness for gen'ral results. An' he has a heap of luck.
Simple, I know; but this little experience made me feel like I'd signed a gen'ral peace treaty with the world at large. I hadn't, though. An hour later I runs up against Willis G. Briscoe. He's kind of an outside development manager, who makes preliminary reports on new deals. One of these cold-eyed, chesty parties, Willis G. is; tall and thin, and with a big, bowwow voice that has a rasp to it.
Course, I can't give it to you the way Pyramid had it put down; but here was the gen'ral plan: Knowin' he had to take the count, he'd been chewin' things over. He wa'n't squealin', or tryin' to square himself either here or beyond. He'd lived his own life in his own way, and he was standin' pat on his record. He knew he'd put over some raw deals; but the same had been handed to him.
Well, we didn't. The minute we blows into the arcade and begins to ask for him, up slides a smooth-talkin' buildin' detective who listens polite what I feed him and suggests that if we wait a minute he'll call up the gen'ral offices. Which he does and reports that they've no idea where Mr. Nash can be found.
He held out a pass. "This pass am from Gen'ral Jackson," he said. "Am it?" said Langdon, looking at the pass, "Yes, it am." "Is you the orf'cer in command of this yere house?" asked the colored man, his wide mouth parting in an enormous grin that showed his magnificent white teeth. "For the present I am, Sir Knight of the Dark but Kind Countenance. What wouldst thou?"
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