An American civil war! The
very idea seems unnatural. "But will the Yankees fight?" queries
Valois. Hardin replies grimly: "I did not think we would even be
opposed in this Convention. They seemed to fight us pretty well
here. They may fight in the field--when it comes."
For Philip Hardin is a wise man. He never under-estimates his
untried enemy.
Valois smiles. He cannot control a sneer. The men who are lumber-hewers,
dirt-diggers, cod-fishers and factory operatives will never face
the Southern chivalry. He despises the sneaking Yankees. Traders
in a small way arouse all the arrogance of the planter. He cannot
bring any philosophy of the past to tell him that the straining,
leaky Mayflcnver was the pioneer of the stately American fleets
now swarming on every sea. The little wandering Boston bark, Otter,
in 1796 found her way to California. She was the harbinger of a
mighty future marine control. The lumbering old Sachem (of the same
Yankee borough) in 1822 founded the Pacific hide and tallow trade
as an earnest of the sea control. Where one Yankee shows the way
thousands may follow, yet this Valois ignored in his scorn of the
man who works.
Maxime could not dream that the day could ever come when thousands
of Yankees would swarm over entrenchments, vainly held by the best
blood of the sunny South.
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