In all these respects a machine can surpass a man. Why, you
yourself, in praising those Tutonian soldiers, said that they went like
clockwork. That's the highest military praise possible."
Sam was much disturbed by this conversation. Mr. Cope went on to tell
how his Government had spent L23,000 to fire a single shot and test one
of his new projectiles, but Sam was not interested. Then the inventor
began to rally him about the lack of interest of soldiers in the
inventions which they used.
"If you had had to depend on yourselves for inventions," he said, "you
would still be fighting with cross-bows, or perhaps more likely with
your teeth and finger-nails. No soldier ever invented anything. We
inventors are the real military men."
At last Sam's unconscious tormentor took his departure, and the invalid
rang for the hospital orderly so that he might tell him not to let him
in again. To his surprise a new orderly appeared, a negro whose face
was strangely familiar.
"What is it, sah?" he said.
"Is that you, Mose?" cried Sam. "Why, it's almost as good as being at
home again."
"Bress my soul, Massa Jinks--I mean General, have you been a-hurtin'
yourself again?" and the man chuckled to himself till his whole body
shook. Under Mose's care Sam made more rapid progress and soon was able
to go out in a sedan-chair, borne by three men, like a mandarin.
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