general. These two great lawyers still stood absorbed in
low-toned conversation. But the young preacher had no eyes for Joe
Daviess nor for any one except Andrew Jackson. As soon as he could free
his hand from Father Orin's clasp he entered the court room and went
straight up to General Jackson and stood still in front of him, looking
at him. Both the gentlemen turned in surprise at the young
backwoodsman's abrupt approach. Both were much older and taller than he,
and very different altogether from this square-built, rough-mannered
youth. But they may have felt the power that was his as well as theirs,
for neither gave a sign of the impatience that both were quick to feel
and almost as quick to show. Peter Cartwright was gazing steadily up
into General Jackson's eagle eyes--which few could face, which turned
many a stout heart from a firm purpose--without swerving for an instant
from what he meant to do.

[Illustration: "'I wanted to shake the hand of a man like you.'"]

"This is General Jackson, I believe," he said.

Andrew Jackson bent his haughty head. His gaze was now enough to make
the bravest flinch. But the young preacher went on without the slightest
flinching.

"I have been told, sir, that you wanted to see me. I am Peter
Cartwright. I understand that you intend to chastise me for what I said
at the camp-meeting. Well, here I am."

Andrew Jackson stared at him silently for a moment, as if he did not get
the drift of the words. And then he suddenly burst into a great roar.

"The man who told you that was an infernal fool! I did say that I wanted
to see you--to meet you. But I said so because I desired the honor of
knowing you, sir. I wanted to shake the hand of a man like you. Will you
give it to me now, sir? I shall take it as an honor. I am proud to know
a man who is ready to do his duty in spite of anybody on God's earth--as
a preacher should be. A minister of Jesus Christ should love everybody,
and fear no mortal man. Give me your hand again, sir. By the eternal, if
I had a few officers like you, and a well-drilled army, I could take old
England!"

With the meeting of the two men's hands a shout rang out from the crowd
now pressing in at the door. Shout followed shout, till the outcry
sounded far through the forest. It reached the ears of Philip Alston and
William Pressley, who were riding slowly toward the court-house. They
spurred their horses forward, wondering what could be the cause of the
unusu