“If you don’t hand it over, I shall search you.”
Joe stood straight as a mountain pine, his beady black eyes full of defiance.
“Not got it,” was his reiteration.
“Come,” growled the officer. “I’ll take you up here and search you.”
The Indian did not object, but, when he was taken into a room beneath the grand stand and searched, the knife was not found upon him.
“What have you done with it?” demanded the puzzled and angry policeman.
“No got it,” was all he could force Joe to say in answer.
“But you had it.”
“Ugh!” grunted the redskin.