“I’d have to say that was a fair offer. More’n fair, actually,” Daniels said. “Course, I imagine with a couple hundred of your troops all wanted to be fitted at the same time, he’s busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest down there.”
Phule grinned openly at the colorful analogy before replying.
“It shouldn’t be too bad. I’ve got a couple dozen tailors helping him-every one in the settlement, or, at least, every one I could find.”
Daniels snorted loudly. “And I’m sure they all just love working together. You got style, son. I’ll give you that. I believe there was some business you wanted to discuss with me, though?”
“That’s right,” the commander said, leaning forward in his chair. “I wanted to talk with you about today’s performance in the swamp.”
“Don’t know about your crew,” Charlie said, “but we had us a pretty good day. Got three nice stones. In fact, I’ve got ‘em with me if you’d like to see.”
He pulled a small cloth drawstring bag from his pocket and tossed it to Phule. The commander opened the bag and upended it, spilling three small pebbles into his hand.
“Very nice,” he said, trying to sound enthusiastic.
In reality, he found the stones to be immensely unimpressive. They were small, the largest being roughly the size of a marble, while the smallest was barely the size of a pea. A dull, mottled brown, they seemed no different from any pebbles one might find in a garden.
“Oh, they might not look like much now,” Daniels commented, seeming to read Phule’s thoughts, “but they polish up real nice with a little work. This is what they end up lookin’ like. “