NEW FRIENDS--AND AN OLD ENEMY
Langdon gazed at the two departing Senators with varied emotions. He
sat down to think over what they had said and to carefully consider
what manner of man was Peabody, who showed such an interest in him. He
realized that he would have considerable intercourse with Peabody in
the processes of legislation, and finally had to admit to himself
that he did not like the Senator from Pennsylvania. Just what it was
Langdon could not at this time make certain, but he was mystified by
traces of contradictions in the Senator's character--slight traces,
true, but traces nevertheless. Peabody's cordiality and sympathy were
to Langdon's mind partly genuine and partly false. Just what was the
cause of or the necessity for the alloy in the true metal he could not
fathom.
His talk with these famous lawmakers was unsatisfactory also in that
it had conveyed to Langdon the suggestion that the Senate was not
primarily a great forum for the general and active consideration of
weighty measures and of national policies. It had been his idea that
the Senate was primarily such a forum, but the attitude of Peabody
and Stevens had hinted to him that there were matters of individual
interest that outweighed public or national considerations. For
instance, they were anxious that Altacoola should have the naval base
regardless of the claims or merits of any other section. That was
unusual, puzzling to Langdon. Moreover, it was poor business, yet
there were able business men in the Senate. Not one of them would,
for instance, think of buying a site for a factory until he had
investigated many possible locations and then selected the most
favorable one. Why was it, he pondered, that the business of the great
United States of America was not conducted on business lines?
He must study the whole question intelligently; that was imperative.
He must have advice, help. To whom was he to go for it? Stevens? Yes,
his old friend, who knew all "the ropes." Yet even Stevens seemed
different in Washington than Stevens in Mississippi. Here he played
"second fiddle." He was even obsequious, Langdon had observed, to
Peabody. In Mississippi he was a leader, and a strong one, too. But
Senator Langdon had not yet learned of the many founts from which
political strength and political leadership may be gained.
What he finally decided on was the engaging of a secretary, but he
must be one with knowledge of political operations, one who combined
wisdom with honesty. Such an aid could prevent Langdon from making the
many mistakes that invariably mark the new man in politics, and he
could point out the most effective modes of procedure under given
circumstances. It might prove difficult to find a man of the necessary
qualifications who was not already employed, but in the meantime
Langdon would watch the playing of the game himself and make his own
deductions as best he could.
The Senator started toward the hotel desk to ask regarding the
whereabouts of his son Randolph, when his attention was caught by the
sight of three powerful negro porters endeavoring to thrust outdoors
a threadbare old man. The victim's flowing white hair, white mustache
and military bearing received short shrift.
"Come along, Colonel! Yo' can't sit heah all day. Them chairs is for
the guests in the hotel," the head porter was urging as he jerked the
old man toward the door.
The Mississippian's fighting blood was instantly aroused at such
treatment of a respectable old white man by negroes. His lips tightly
compressed as he hurried to the rescue. He cried sharply:
"Take your hands off that gentleman! What do you mean by touching a
friend of mine?"
The negroes stepped back amazed.
"'Scuse me, Senator, is this gent'man a friend of yours?" the head
porter gasped apologetically.
Langdon looked at him.
"You heard what I said," he drawled in the slow way natural to some
men of the South when trouble threatens. "I'd like to have you down in
Mississippi for about ten minutes."
The head porter turned quickly on his assistants and drove them away,
shouting at the top of his voice:
"Get about yo' wuk. How dare yo' intehfere wid a friend of de
Senator's? I'll teach yo' to be putting yoh nose in where it ain't got
no business."
The old man, astonished at the turn of events, came forward
hesitatingly to Langdon.
"I'm very much obliged to you, sir," he said. "I'm Colonel Stoneman,
an old soldier."
The Mississippian stretched forth his hand.
"My name is Langdon, sir--Senator Langdon of Mississippi. I am an old
soldier, too."
"Delighted, Senator," exclaimed the seedy-looking old man, taking the
offered hand gratefully.
Langdon's easy method of making friends was well illustrated as he
clapped his new companion on the back. Everybody he met was the
Mississippian's friend until he had proved himself the contrary. That
had been his rule through life.
"Come right over, Colonel; have a cigar, sir." Then, as they lighted
their cigars, he inquired, "What army corps were you with, Colonel?"
"I was under Grant along the Tennessee," replied the old G.A.R. man.
Familiarity with a Senator was something new for him, and already he
was straightening up and becoming more of a man every moment. Langdon
was thoroughly interested.
"I was along the Tennessee under Beauregard," he said.
"Great generals, sir! Great generals!" exclaimed Colonel Stoneman.
"And great fighting, I reckon!" echoed the Confederate. "You remember
the battle of Crawfordsville?"
The old Federal smiled with joyous recollection.
"Do I? Well, I should say I did! Were you there, Senator?"
"Was I there? Why, I remember every shot that was fired. I was under
Kirby, who turned your left wing."
The attitude of the Northern soldier changed instantly. He drew
himself up with cold dignity. Plainly he felt that he had the honor of
his army to sustain.
"Our left wing was never turned, sir!" he exclaimed with dignity.
Langdon stared at him with amazement. This was a point of view the
Confederate had never heard before.
"Never turned!" he gasped. "Don't tell me that! I was there, and,
besides, I've fought this battle on an average of twice a week ever
since '65 down in Mississippi, and in all these years I never heard
such a foolish statement."
"What rank were you, sir?" asked the Union soldier, haughtily.
"I was a captain that morning," confessed the Southerner.
His old enemy smiled with superiority.
"As a colonel I've probably got more accurate information," he said.
"I was a colonel that evening," came the dry retort.
"But in an inferior army. We licked you, sir!" cried Stoneman, hotly.
The Mississippian drew himself up with all the dignity common to the
old Confederate soldier explaining the war.
"The South was never whipped, sir. We honorably surrendered, sir. We
surrendered to save the country, sir, but we were never whipped."
"Did you not run at Kenyon Hill?" taunted Stoneman.
Langdon brought down his fist in the palm of the other hand violently.
"Yes, sir; we ran at you. I ought to remember. I got my wound there.
You remember that long lane--" He pulled off his hat and threw it on
the floor, indicating it with one hand--"Here was the Second Alabama."
The hat of the old Federal dropped on the floor opposite the hat of
the Confederate.
"And here the Eighth Illinois," exclaimed Stoneman.
Langdon excitedly seized a diminutive bellboy passing by and planted
him alongside his hat.
"Stay there a moment, sonny," he cried. "You are the Fourth Virginia."
The newspaper Stoneman was carrying came down opposite the startled
bellboy, who was trying not to appear frightened.
"This is the clump of cedars," he exclaimed.
Both, in their eagerness, were bending down over their improvised
battle plan, their heads close together.
"And here a farmhouse beside your cedars," cried Langdon.
"That's where the rebels charged us," echoed the Union man.
Langdon brought down his fist again with emphatic gesture.
"You bet we charged you! The Third Mississippi charged you! I charged
you, sir!"
Stoneman nodded.
"I remember a young fool of a Johnnie reb dashing up the hill fifty
yards ahead of his men, waving his sword and yelling like a wild
Indian."
The Southerner straightened up.
"Well, where in thunderation would you expect me to be, sir?" he
exclaimed. "Behind them? I got my wound there. Laid me up for three
months; like to have killed me."
Then a new idea struck him. "Why, Colonel, it must have been a bullet
from one of your men--from your regiment, sir!"
The old Northerner pushed his fingers through his hair and shook his
head apologetically.
"Why, Senator, I'm afraid it was," he hesitated.
Langdon's eyes were big with the afterglow of a fighter discussing the
mighty struggles of the past, those most precious of all the jewels in
the treasure store of a soldier's memory.
"Why, it might have been a bullet fired by you, sir," he cried. "It
might be that you were the man who almost killed me. Why, confound
you, sir, I'm glad to meet you!"
Each old veteran of tragic days gone by had quite unconsciously
awakened a responsive chord in the heart of the other. A Senator and
a penniless old "down and outer" are very much the same in the human
scale that takes note of the inside and not the outside of a man.
And they fell into each other's arms then and there, for what strong
fighter does not respect another of his kind?
There they stood, arms around each other, clapping each other on the
back, actually chortling in the pure ecstasy of comradeship, now
serious, again laughing, when on the scene appeared Bud Haines, the
correspondent, who had returned to interview the new Senator from
Mississippi.
"Great heavens!" ejaculated the newspaper man. "A Senator, a United
States Senator, hugging a broken-down old 'has-been!' What is the
world coming to?" Haines suddenly paused. "I wonder if it can be a
pose;--merely for effect. It's getting harder every day to tell what's
genuine and what isn't in this town."