"You see, this sausage that was stolen was in ten-pound boxes, and this is part of one of them," he insisted.
"Where did you get this, Hiram?" I finally managed to ask.
"I had to lie on one of the wharfs upstream until after midnight when Becker's Turgid came slipping down the current, like a thief, and I had to leg it hard to keep up with her. About a mile below she slid in alongside a Mexican, bound for Vera Cruz, unloaded a hundred and fifteen tubs of something—it went down on the manifest as lard, and I guess it was grease, anyhow. On her deck there still remained five bales of something. I wanted to know what it was. The Turgia then slid downstream to the Southern Pacific docks and unloaded there. They billed five bales of waste paper to New York. Yes, I got the name of the consignee—Cassinis & Cassinis, Water Street—but I wondered how Becker collected waste paper up there in that swamp and I didn't believe it was waste paper. It was covered with burlap and baled tight.
"Do you see what this crafty old crook has done? He took the sausage out of the folding boxes, which he laid out flat, then baled them carefully and is shipping them to New York to get the best price and put such evidence clear out of the way. Well, it cost me I don't know how many drinks of water-front whiskey to get those watchmen in condition—there were two of them—before I could dig into one of the bales for a sample. I know it was tough on the watchmen, but there you are, and as sure as shooting Becker & Co. got the stolen sausages and we've got to get Becker before he has a chance to try to hang it on me, or some other boob clerk.
"Ben, are you awake? do you understand what I am saying?" he asked, giving my shoulder a tap that made me sway as though kicked by a mule.
"Yes, Hiram, I understand. Was there a Southern Pacific ship at the dock?" I asked, rubbing my shoulder.
"No—the next ship is due to-morrow, and they're always late now."
"I believe you have something really tangible. I'll stop that shipment this morning, but you'd better get to bed. And," I hastily added, "we must have more than empty sausage cartons to make a case against him."
"I know that, and there is nothing doing in the way of sleep for me now. The old man is down at a rummy, waiting to take me up to the canal to see that boat. If the boat looks good to me, will you come and look it over?" he asked, getting up and walking the floor like a caged lion.