"The military-lookin' chap," was the reply.
"On the night them gazabos chased us down the Street of a Thousand Steps he was made up like a Jap. When we came to the marines he ducked, as if afraid of Uncle Sam's uniforms."
"Ned rather thought he'd be down to this conference," Jack said.
The man to whom the boy called special attention was in the garb of a civilian, but the military manner was unmistakable. He now stood talking with half a dozen Filipinos, occasionally pointing to the eastern coast of the island.
"He's sendin' his natives after the Manhattan, all right," Jimmie said. "There's goin' to be somethin' doin here before long. Look who's here!" he added, as a young man of perhaps twenty-five sauntered toward the tent.
Under his arm the young man carried a steel box, like those used as receptacles for cash and important papers in safe deposit vaults. The box seemed to be quite heavy, for the young man frequently shifted it from one side to the other.
"There's your treaty box!" laughed Jack, poking Jimmie in the ribs.
"It may be, at that," the boy replied.
The young man passed from group to group in front of the tents, apparently seeking some one. Occasionally he pointed to the keyhole of the box and the others felt in their pockets.
"He's lost the key to the treaty box," Jimmie grinned.