Part 19 (1/2)
CHAPTER I
THE MAN OF THE HOUR
”It's positively uncanny----”
Betty Winter paused on the top step of the Capitol and gazed over the great silent crowd with a s.h.i.+ver.
”The silence--yes,” Ned Vaughan answered slowly. ”I wondered if you had felt it, too.”
”It's more like a funeral than an Inauguration.”
The young reporter smiled:
”If you believe General Scott there may be several funerals in Was.h.i.+ngton before the day's work is done.”
”And you _don't_ believe him?” the girl asked seriously.
”Nonsense! All this feverish preparation for violence----”
Betty laughed:
”I'm afraid you're not a good judge of the needs of the incoming administration. As an avowed Secessionist--you're hardly in their confidence.”
”Thank G.o.d, I'm not.”
”What are those horses doing over there by the trees?”
”Masked battery of artillery.”
”Don't be silly!”
”It's true. Old Scott's going to save the Capital on Inauguration Day any how! The Avenue's lined with soldiers--sharpshooters posted in the windows along the whole route of the Inaugural procession, a company of troops in each end of the Capitol. He has built a wooden tunnel from the street into the north end of the building and that's lined with guards.
A squad of fifty soldiers are under the platform where we're going to sit----”
”No!”
”Look through the cracks and see for yourself!” Vaughan cried with scorn.
The sparkling brown eyes were focused on the board platform.
”I do see them moving,” she said slowly, as a look of deep seriousness swept the fair young face. ”Perhaps General Scott's right after all.
Father says we're walking on a volcano----”
”But not that kind of a volcano, Miss Betty,” Vaughan interrupted.
”Senator Winter's an Abolitionist. He hates the South with every breath he breathes.”
Betty nodded: