nt it to you so you could get as much as
possible out of your system. The hussies! I've got work for you to do
here. Forget 'em! Hop in!" And he motioned me into a very large blue
touring car that stood beside the station platform.

"Drive to the Governor's Mansion and don't sprout grass under your
wheels," he commanded the black chauffeur. "The Governor's Mansion,
private door on Sixth Street."

CHAPTER V

"HERE'S MY BOY, GOVERNOR"

And it was en route to the mansion of the Gouverneur of the State of
Harpeth that my Uncle, the General Robert, did enlighten me as to the
urgent need of me in his affairs of business.

"It is a question of mules, sir, and of a dishonor to the State that
I'm going to prevent if my hot old head is laid low in doing it, as it
probably will be if I get into the ruckus with Jefferson Whitworth
that now threatens. They have insinuated themselves into the
confidence of Governor Faulkner until they have made it well-nigh
impossible for him to see the matter except as they put it. They will
get his signature to the rental grant of the lands, make a get-away
with the money and let the State crash down upon his head when it
finds out that he has been led into bringing it and himself into
dishonor. Why, damn it, sir, I'd like to have every one of them,
especially Jeff Whitworth, at the end of a halter and feed him a raw
mule, hoof and ears. I'm probably going to be done to death all alone
before the pack of wolves, but I'm going to die hard--for Bill
Faulkner, who holds in his hand the honor of his State and my State,
I'll die hard!" And he spoke the words with such a fierceness that his
white mustache, which was waxed with the propriety of the world,
divided like crossed silver swords beneath his straight nose with its
thin and trembling nostrils.

"It will be that I can help you protect this honor of the Gouverneur
Faulkner and the State of Harpeth, will it not, my Uncle Robert?" I
asked with a great anxiety. "If you must fall on the field of honor it
will be the glory of Robert Carruthers of Grez and Bye to fall beside
you, sir. I am a very good sport, my father has said."

"God bless my soul, how like Henry you are, boy!" exclaimed my Uncle,
the General Robert, and he did lay one of his long and very strong
arms across my shoulder and give to me the embrace for which I had so
longed; but for not enough time for me to yield myself to it. "Henry
always wanted to tag 'Brother Bob,' a