“Hello, there!” hailed Jimmy. “I need you. This fellow is a deserter. He was on the way to Camp Abbott and jumped the train. I jumped after him and nailed him.”
“It’s a lie,” shrieked Bixton. “He’s the deserter. It’s the other way round. He deserted and I jumped off after him. We had a fight and he nailed me. I——”
“I’m Corporal Blaise from Camp Sterling.” Jimmy pointed to the insignia on his sleeve. “I was sent to help conduct a detachment of men to Camp Abbott. What I want to do is to turn this man over to you, so that I can telegraph my K. O. After that he has a confession to make that I want taken down before proper authorities and signed.”
“You’re a pretty smart Sammy.” The policeman viewed Jimmy with admiration. “Now you just let me handle this. I’ll run this yellow dog in while you go and get cleaned up and do your telegraphing. You’d better take time to eat a bite, too. Afterward you take a hike up to Station House No. 10. It’s about three blocks from here. You can find it. That’s where this un’s going on the jump. Some harness you put on him! Guess you give him a mud bath and took one yourself. You’re a good ’un, blessed if you ain’t.”
“Oh, I’m not so much.” Jimmy grinned, his face flushing under its liberal coating of mud. “Well, I’m going to beat it. So long.”
Heading on a run for the nearby railroad station, Jimmy felt in a pocket and fished up the little wad of notes he had extracted from his money belt before decorating Bixton with it. Entering the station telegraph office, he sent his message.
“Guess that’ll give ’em a surprise at headquarters,” he reflected as he left the telegraph office. “It’s been some night and it’s going to be some day. A fine, peaceful, quiet Sunday at that. I’ll have to stay here, I guess, until I’m told what to do next. But, oh, boy! Wait till I get back to Sterling!”