"Great Scott! Do you think I'm crazy!" cried poor Ned.
"Think it?" the sentry raised his thin, pale eyebrows, "I know it, old pal. Run along and roll your hoop now, and don't give me no more trouble. If I was to let you into the fort, I'd be put in the guard-house for a month for letting a crank through."
"But I'm Lieutenant Strong, I tell you——"
The sentry interrupted by tapping his forehead.
"Sure you are. That's all right. You can be the President if you like; it's none of my funeral."
There was a sort of soothing intonation in his voice, as if he were trying to quiet a fractious child. The stupidity of the fellow almost drove Ned wild.
He plunged a hand into his pocket. He would show the fellow by documents that he was not an impostor.
"I'll show you papers that will prove who I am," he exclaimed.
Then, with a sudden chill of horror, he recollected that all his papers—none of them, luckily, very important ones—had been taken from him by Saki and Kenworth. The sentry was watching him, as he frantically searched, with an amused expression.