Would he be duped by the Governor’s ruse of establishing a State Camp at this time?  Stephen, as he gazed at him, was sure that he would not.  This man could see to the bottom, through every specious argument.  Little matters of law and precedence did not trouble him.  Nor did he believe elderly men in authority when they told gravely that the state troops were there for peace.

After the ranks were broken, Major Sherman and the Judge went to talk to Captain Lyon and the Union Leader, who was now a Colonel of one of the Volunteer regiments.  Stephen sought Richter, who told him that the regiments were to assemble the morning of the morrow, prepared to march.

“To Camp Jackson?” asked Stephen.

Richter shrugged his shoulders.

“We are not consulted, my friend,” he said.  “Will you come into my quarters and have a bottle of beer with Tiefel?”

Stephen went.  It was not their fault that his sense at their comradeship was gone.  To him it was as if the ties that had bound him to them were asunder, and he was become an outcast.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE STONE THAT IS REJECTED

That Friday morning Stephen awoke betimes with a sense that something was to happen.  For a few moments he lay still in the half comprehension which comes after sleep when suddenly he remembered yesterday’s incidents at the Arsenal, and leaped out of bed.

“I think that Lyon is going to attack Camp Jackson to-day,” he said to his mother after breakfast, when Hester had left the room.

Mrs. Brice dropped her knitting in her lap.

“Why, Stephen?”

“I went down to the Arsenal with the Judge yesterday and saw them finishing the equipment of the new regiments.  Something was in the wind.  Any one could see that from the way Lyon was flying about.  I think he must have proof that the Camp Jackson people have received supplies from the South.”

Mrs. Brice looked fixedly at her son, and then smiled in spite of the apprehension she felt.

“Is that why you were working over that map of the city last night?” she asked.

“I was trying to see how Lyon would dispose his troops.  I meant to tell you about a gentleman we met in the street car, a Major Sherman who used to be in the army.  Mr. Brinsmade knows him, and Judge Whipple, and many other prominent men here.  He came to St. Louis some months ago to take the position of president of the Fifth Street Line.  He is the keenest, the most original man I have ever met.  As long as I live I shall never forget his description of Lyon.”

“Is the Major going back into the army?” said Mrs. Brice, Stephen did not remark the little falter in her voice.  He laughed over the recollection of the conversation in the street car.

“Not unless matters in Washington change to suit him,” he said.  “He thinks that things have been very badly managed, and does not scruple to say so anywhere.  I could not have believed it possible that two men could have talked in public as he and Judge Whipple did yesterday and not be shot down.  I thought that it was as much as a man’s life is worth to mention allegiance to the Union here in a crowd.  And the way Mr. Sherman pitched into the Rebels in that car full of people was enough to make your hair stand on end.”