His broken tile drooped on one side in a painfully funny way that worried Pike. He gently removed the great man’s hat and tried to straighten it. “Permit me, Brother Barker,” he said nervously. “Your hat’s a little out of plumb.” Barker’s moon-like face was beaming now with inspiration. He made no objection. He was used to being fussed over by women and preachers. Barker turned his horse over to an obliging army hostler and took Pike’s arm from his habit of being escorted through crowds to the platform. The soldier led them without further ceremony to the tent of the commander of the advancing army. From the pomp and ceremony, salutes and clicking heels, the peace pioneers knew that they were being ushered into the presence of the Commander-in-chief. General Villard, who had dashed from Waldron’s side to assume first command, came out laughing to meet them--a tall, stately figure, booted and spurred--his entire staff following. He carried a silver-mounted riding-whip in his hand and looked as if he had been born in the saddle. “You bear a message under a flag of truce from the enemy?” he asked sharply. Barker bowed graciously, removing his lame tile, and stood holding it on a level with his shoulder after the fashion of committees at the laying of cornerstones. His bald head and smiling open face beamed. He plunged at once into his eloquent address. “We have come, General,” he began suavely, “in the name of a hundred million happy, peaceful citizens of this great Republic to bid you welcome to our shores. Our vast and glorious domain, washed by two oceans, stretching from the frozen peaks of Alaska to the eternal sunshine and flowers of the tropics, is large enough for all who bless us with their coming. “We welcome you as brothers! We want you to stay with us. We offer you the blessings of peace and freedom. We do not meet you with guns. We come with smiles and flowers, extend our hands and say: ‘God bless you!’” The orator was swept away with the melodious sound of his own voice. He replaced his crushed hat and extended his hand in a smile of glowing enthusiasm. With a sudden crash the silver-mounted riding-whip whistled through the air and tore through the orator’s tile. The battered hat fell into pieces and dropped to the ground revealing an ugly red lane across the great man’s shining bald pate. Barker was too dumfounded to dodge or protest. The thing happened with such swiftness, it had stunned him into silence. Pike danced nervously on first one foot and then the other, lifting his hands in little attempts at apologies. “Hats off in the presence of your superiors!” the General thundered. Pike’s hat was already off. He hadn’t ventured to put it on. Still he ducked his head instinctively and then rushed into the breach.