Suddenly came a sound of music, fifes and drums. It burst on our ears from round the corner, shrill and lively--“The Girl I Left Behind Me.” Carpenter, who was directly in front of me, stopped short, and seemed to shrink away from what was coming, until his back was against the show-window of a department-store, and he could shrink no further. It was a company of ex-service men in uniform; one or two hundred, carrying rifles with fixed bayonets which gleamed in the sunshine. There were two fifers and two drummers at their head, and also two flags, one the flag of the Brigade, and the other the flag of Mobland. I remembered having noted in the morning papers that the national commander of the brigade was to arrive in town this morning, and no doubt this was a delegation to do him honor. The marchers swept down on us, and past us, and I watched the prophet. His eyes were wide, his whole face expressing anguish. “Oh God, my Father!” he whispered, and seemed to quiver with each thud of the tramping feet on the pavement. After the storm had passed, he stood motionless, the pain still in his face “It is Rome! It is Rome!” he murmured. “No,” said I, “it is Mobland.” He went on, as if he had not heard me. “Rome! Eternal Rome! Rome that never dies!” And he turned upon me his startled eyes. “Even the eagles!” For a moment I was puzzled; but then I remembered the golden eagle with wings outspread, that perches on top of our national banner. “We only use one eagle,” I said, somewhat feebly. To which he answered, “The soul of one eagle is the same as the soul of two.” Now, I had felt quite certain that Carpenter would not get along very well with the Brigade, and I was more than ever decided that he must be got out of the way somehow or other. But meantime, the first task was to get him away from this crowd which was rapidly collecting. Already he was in the full tide of a speech. “Those sharp spears! Can you not see them thrust into the bowels of human beings? Can you not see them dripping with the blood of your brothers?” I whispered to Everett, thinking him one among this company of enthusiasts who might have a little common sense left. “We had better get him away from here!” And Everett put his hand gently on the prophet's shoulder, and said, “The prisoners in the jail are hoping for us.” I took him by the other arm, and we began to lead him down the street. When we had once got him going, we walked him faster and faster, until presently the crowd was trailing out into a string of idlers and curiosity seekers, as before. XLVI The party came to the city jail, and knocked for admission. But no doubt the authorities had taken consultation in the meantime, and there was no admission for prophets. The party stood on the steps, baffled and bewildered, a pitiful and pathetic little group.