he faithful old guard,
who have fought for the love of liberty and are still waiting for their
pay, see their new comrades taking high rewards. It isn't fair.
Naturally the old boys hate the newcomers. They feel like putting a
coat of tar and feathers on every one of them. You and I have got to
go to work and put the gold seekers out of the temple. They need to
hear some of your plain talk. Our greatest peril is Arnoldism."

"You jest wait an' hear to me," said Solomon. "I got suthin' to say
that'll make their ears bleed passin' through 'em."

The evening of his arrival in camp Solomon talked at the general
assembly of the troops. He was introduced with most felicitous good
humor by Washington's able secretary, Mr. Alexander Hamilton. The
ingenious and rare accomplishments of the scout and his heroic loyalty
were rubbed with the rhetoric of an able talker until they shone.

"Boys, ye kint make no hero out o' an old scrag o' a man like me,"
Solomon began. "You may b'lieve what Mr. Hamilton says but I know
better. I been chased by Death an' grabbed by the coat-tails frequent,
but I been lucky enough to pull away. That's all. You new recruits
'a' been told how great ye be. I'm a-goin' fer to tell ye the truth.
I don't like the way ye look at this job. It ain't no job o' workin'
out. We're all workin' fer ourselves. It's my fight an' it's yer
fight. I won't let no king put a halter on my head an', with the stale
in one hand an' a whip in t' other, lead me up to the tax collector to
pay fer his fun. I'd ruther fight him. Some o' you has fam'lies.
Don't worry 'bout 'em. They'll be took care of. I got some confidence
in the Lord myself. Couldn't 'a' lived without it. Look a' me. I'm
so ragged that I got patches o' sunburn on my back an' belly. I'm what
ye might call a speckled man. My feet 'a' been bled. My body looks
like an ol' tree that has been clawed by a bear an' bit by woodpeckers.
I've stuck my poker into the fire o' hell. I've been singed an' frost
bit an' half starved an' ripped by bullets, an' all the pay I want is
liberty an' it ain't due yit. I've done so little I'm 'shamed o'
myself. Money! Lord God o' Israel! If any man has come here fer to
make money let him stan' up while we all pray fer his soul. These 'ere
United States is your hum an' my hum an' erway down the trail afore us
they's millions 'pon millions o' folks comin' an' we want 'em to be
free. We're a-fightin' fer 'em