“I jest got a couple m-more words to say, and I’m goin’ to say ’em. I know all big b-business men hain’t like you. I know most of ’em is honest and fair. Jest because we run acrost a man like you don’t make us think they’re all like you. What it makes us think is that if them other m-men knew how you acted to us they’d be ashamed of you. They wouldn’t want to have anythin’ to do with you. They wouldn’t do business with you.... The more I think about it the more it gits into my head that you hain’t a real business man at all. You’re jest a feller that’s got up in the world because he was willin’ to do dirty things that other men wouldn’t touch.... Sich men don’t last. Maybe you kin git ahead for a while, but it’s only for a while. I jest wanted to let you know what we think of you, and to tell you this: We was willin’ to be reasonable. We was w-willin’ to come to t-terms. Now you can’t make no t-terms with us. It’s f-fight. We’ll git all we kin. We’ll make you pay the l-last cent we kin git out of you—and you’ll pay it, too. That’s all, Mr. Wiggamore, and good m-mornin’.” He turned his back and walked off fast. I looked back, and Wiggamore was looking after him with a queer kind of a look that was more than half mad, but mixed with something else that I couldn’t quite make out. Anyhow, says I to myself, whatever happens, we got the satisfaction of knowing that man hain’t mistaken about what we think of him. “Now what?” says I to Mark. “Fight,” says he. “I hain’t n-never been in no fight before. This hain’t no reg’lar fight, it’s between Wiggamore and us. What I’m goin’ to f-find out is this—if business will stand for sich men as Wiggamore. That’s what I’m goin’ to f-find out.” “How?” says I. “When there’s a war,” says Mark, “the thing to do is to capture the enemy’s strongest p-place—the place that’s d-defendin’ all his country. Do that and you win. I’m g-goin’ to try to capture Wiggamore’s stronghold.” “Don’t sound jest clear to me,” says I. “It will,” says he, “b-because you’re goin’ to help me, and so are Tallow and B-Binney.” “Where’s this here fort?” “In the city,” says he. “We’re goin’ there?” “Horse, f-foot, and artillery,” says he. “When?” “First t-train.” “That’s one o’clock.” “Yes. All git ready. Be at the depot. Now h-hustle.” “We’ll be there,” says I, and so did Tallow and Binney. You bet we’d be there. Nothing short of an earthquake helped out by a cyclone and a hurricane and a ton of dynamite could have kept us away, for we knew something big was going to happen. Mark Tidd was mad. He was mad all the way through, like I had never seen him before, and he was going after a bigger fight than he had ever been in. I wouldn’t have missed seeing it to be invited to dinner by the President.