"If not more."

"Yes, if not more."

Both boys were very grave and thoughtful as they walked to Madame
Delaunay's most excellent inn. They realized that as yet South Carolina
stood alone, but in the evening their spirits took a leap. News came
that Mississippi also had gone out. Then other planting states followed
fast. Florida was but a day behind Mississippi, Alabama went out the
next day after Florida, Georgia eight days later, and Louisiana a
week after Georgia. Exultation rose high in Charleston. All the Gulf
and South Atlantic States were now sure, but the great border states
still hung fire. There was a clamor for Virginia, Kentucky, Maryland
and Missouri, and, though the promises from them came thick and fast,
they did not go out. But the fiery energy of Charleston and the lower
South was moving forward over all obstacles. Already arrangements had
been made for a great convention at Montgomery in Alabama, and a new
government would be formed differing but little from that of the old
Union.

Now Harry began to hear much of a man, of whom he had heard his father
speak, but who had slipped entirely from his mind. It was Jefferson
Davis, a native of Kentucky like Abraham Lincoln. He had been a brave
and gallant soldier at Buena Vista. It was said that he had saved the
day against the overwhelming odds of Santa Anna. He had been Secretary
of War in the old Union, now dissolved forever, according to the
Charleston talk. Other names, too, began to grow familiar in Harry's
ears. Much was said about the bluff Bob Toombs of Georgia, who feared
no man and who would call the roll of his slaves at the foot of Bunker
Hill monument. And there was little weazened Stephens, also of Georgia,