“In the guard house?” exclaimed Morey.
“The secret service men arrested him early this afternoon. He was found prowling about in the rear of the President’s tent with a rock tied up in a red handkerchief.”
“Why, that was for you,” explained Morey nervously, but laughing in spite of himself. “He’s carried that all the way to Washington to get even with you for ducking him.”
“That’s what he finally confessed,” roared Lieutenant Purcell again. “They’ve just had him before Captain Bryant, the officer of the day. When he told who he was and who he was with, Captain Bryant fortunately recalled that you were my guest—I had been telling him about you. So, concluding that Amos and I could settle our own feud, they are bringing him here to turn him over to us.”
Amos’ armed escort arrived at that moment. When Morey and his host stepped out on the piazza two grinning soldiers and a very much alarmed colored boy stood before them. One of the guards held in his hand the incriminating rock, still concealed in its anarchistic covering. The colored boy burst into tears at sight of Morey and sank on his knees.
“I ain’t done no hahm, Mr. Soldier. I don’ mean hahm to no one,” blubbered Amos. “I’s jes’ lookin’ ’bout.”
Lieutenant Purcell took the weighty weapon and dismissed the soldiers.
“Amos,” he said, as severely as he could, “what’s the meaning of this rock? Why are you carrying it with you?”
“Deed, Mr. Soldier, I’s keepin’ dat kaze I’s ’feared o’ robbers.”