I started over to him and asked, "Where can I keep them until a train comes going north? One is due in about three hours."
"It don't stop here," he said, never for an instant taking his eyes off the big man with the great girth and jowl.
"It will stop for me, and before it gets here I must search each of these fellows down to the very skin."
His mind was working like a whip. Without replying he turned on his heel, went into the store and returned with a key to the warehouse.
"They were so anxious to see the warehouse, we will satisfy them now. Keep them in here," said he, unlocking and throwing open the door.
The big man was exhausted. He dropped in a greasy heap on a pile of green hides. When I cut the cords he could hardly get his arms forward. His wrists looked bad.
I began with the cook. Made him strip before me and I examined each garment critically, removing all personal effects, putting them in a package, carefully marking his name and address on it so that they would be restored. This gave me an excuse to ask a great many other questions. Each man, when searched, was carefully segregated from the unsearched.
Howard stood by eagerly looking on at the thoroughness with which I proceeded, using leather from valuable skins with apparent indifference, to tie up their effects.
The thin man proved to be the manager of all the Bulow interests in that section. He had considerable cash on his person and indignantly protested that I was high-handed in the whole procedure. It was an outrage some mighty power would avenge, he insisted vehemently. At that time the Boches actually believed that when they pulled the proper string some twenty million Germans would rise in defense of the "fatherland," but I never saw it just that way.