Stephen reddened furiously and started to protest, when the General cried:—­ “It’s more than I have in this war.  Come, come, I knew he was a soldier.  Let’s see what kind of a strategist he’ll make.  Brinsmade, have you got such a thing as a map?” Mr. Brinsmade had, and led the way back into the library.  The General shut the door, lighted a cigar with a single vigorous stroke of a match, and began to smoke with quick puffs.  Stephen was puzzled how to receive the confidences the General was giving out with such freedom.

When the map was laid on the table, the General drew a pencil from his pocket and pointed to the state of Kentucky.  Then he drew a line from Columbus to Bowling Green, through Forts Donelson and Henry.

“Now, Stephen,” said he, “there’s the Rebel line.  Show me the proper place to break it.”

Stephen hesitated a while, and then pointed at the centre.

“Good!” said the General.  “Very good!” He drew a heavy line across the first, and it ran almost in the bed of the Tennessee River.  He swung on Mr. Brinsmade.  “Very question Halleck asked me the other day, and that’s how I answered it.  Now, gentlemen, there’s a man named Grant down in that part of the country.  Keep your eyes on him.  Ever heard of him, Brinsmade?  He used to live here once, and a year ago he was less than I was.  Now he’s a general.”

The recollection of the scene in the street by the Arsenal that May morning not a year gone came to Stephen with a shock.

“I saw him,” he cried; “he was Captain Grant that lived on the Gravois Road.  But surely this can’t be the same man who seized Paducah and was in that affair at Belmont.”

“By gum!” said the General, laughing.  “Don’t wonder you’re surprised.  Grant has stuff in him.  They kicked him around Springfield awhile, after the war broke out, for a military carpet-bagger.  Then they gave him for a regiment the worst lot of ruffians you ever laid eyes on.  He fixed ’em.  He made ’em walk the plank.  He made ’em march halfway across the state instead of taking the cars the Governor offered.  Belmont!  I guess he is the man that chased the Rebs out of Belmont.  Then his boys broke loose when they got into the town.  That wasn’t Grant’s fault.  The Rebs came back and chased ’em out into their boats on the river.  Brinsmade, you remember hearing about that.

“Grant did the coolest thing you ever saw.  He sat on his horse at the top of the bluff while the boys fell over each other trying to get on the boat.  Yes, sir, he sat there, disgusted, on his horse, smoking a cigar, with the Rebs raising pandemonium all around him.  And then, sir,” cried the General, excitedly, “what do you think he did?  Hanged if he didn’t force his horse right on to his haunches, slide down the whole length of the bank and ride him across a teetering plank on to the steamer.  And the Rebs just stood on the bank and stared.  They were so astonished they didn’t even shoot the man.  You watch Grant,” said the General.  “And now, Stephen,” he added, “just you run off and take hold of the prettiest girl you can find.  If any of my boys object, say I sent you.”