The General was well enough pleased with this uncertainty whereof he now found himself the hub. He guarded his words, left every man to grope out his own path for himself, and the days coursed on with the unanswered question of the General's determination in their mouths. Thus dwelt the business on that day of April from the developments whereof so much was to be hoped. For the prior space of eight weeks or more the General had said little to me of that banquet planned of nullifiers to uncover him on those topics of perilous statecraft. Seeing his taste to be mysterious, I would say nothing to the General, whether to ask a question or give a hint of conduct, but left him to himself. I knew what he would do; and for the detail of how he would go upon its execution, I was the more willing to miss a forecast of it since I have a weakness for the unknown and am as prone as any other to save up surprise for myself. Wherefore, I would have the General make his own maps and design his own ambuscades, and leave me in blindness of them. On that April morning I owned no sure knowledge that the General would even attend the banquet, to say naught of what he might do or say if ever he once were there. It was the middle of the afternoon when the General looked into my workshop, pipe in mouth, and said with a twinkle in his eye, a twinkle that was both mirthful and hard: “Major, I take it you and I will go to that dinner to-night?” The General would put this as though it were a question; not because it stood unsettled and unsaid as a thing resolved, but it was the way of him when he would pay you a compliment to pretend a consultation, and coax you into a council, hoping you would advise those things he was already resolved upon like iron and which were often half performed. For all I was aware of this talent on the General's part to be polite, and was certain, when he glanced in through my door, that both of us would be of the band about those Indian Queen tables, I was quick to humor his whim for the mysterious and undecided. I looked up as one who turns a new proposal on the wheel of his thoughts. “It is my idea,” said I at last, with the air of a man who likes the notion's flavor, “that your presence would work for good. I should say we might better go. We may count the enemy, and that at least should be something.” “You are right,” returned the General. “We will go; and I think, too, it might be good policy to let the foe count us.” The Indian Queen was a crowded hostelry that night. The halls and waiting rooms of the tavern were thronged of eminent ones. Some were present to attend the Jefferson dinner; others casually for gossip and to hear the news. As the General and I would be going up the stair, my eye was caught by the heavy shoulders and lion face of Webster coming down. “There's too much Secession in the wind for me,” remarked Webster, as the General asked if he were going away.