once more the hot and dripping silence.

On post at the railroad-station, whence the shots came, was Meehan, one
of the Zone police, an ex-sergeant of marines. On top of the hill,
outside the infantry barracks, was another policeman, Bullard, once a
cowboy.

Standish ran to the veranda and heard the pebbles scattering as Bullard
leaped down the hill, and when, in the light from the open door, he
passed, the lieutenant shouted at him to find Meehan and report back.
Then the desk telephone rang, and Standish returned to his chair.

"This is Meehan," said a voice. "Those shots just now were fired by
Major Aintree. He came down on the night train and jumped off after
the train was pulling out and stumbled into a negro, and fell. He's
been drinking and he swore the nigger pushed him; and the man called
Aintree a liar. Aintree pulled his gun and the nigger ran. Aintree
fired twice; then I got to him and knocked the gun out of his hand with
my nightstick."

There was a pause. Until he was sure his voice would be steady and
official, the boy lieutenant did not speak.

"Did he hit the negro?" he asked.

"I don't know," Meehan answered. "The man jumped for the darkest spot
he could find." The voice of Meehan lost its professional calm and
became personal and aggrieved.

"Aintree's on his way to see you now, lieutenant. He's going to report
me."

"For what?"

The voice over the telephone rose indignantly.

"For knocking the gun out of his hand. He says it's an assault. He's
going to break me!"

Standish made no comment.

"Report here," he ordered.

He heard Bullard hurrying up the hill and met him at the foot of the
steps.

"There's a nigger," began Bullard, "lying under some bushes--"

"Hush!" commanded Standish.

From the path below came the sound of footsteps approaching unsteadily,
and the voice of a man swearing and muttering to himself. Standish
pulled the ex-cowboy into the shadow of the darkness and spoke in eager
whispers.

"You understand," he concluded, "you will not report until you see me
pick up a cigar from the desk and light it. You will wait out here in
the darkness. When you see me light the cigar, you will come in and
report."

The cowboy policeman nodded, but without enthusiasm. "I understand,
lieutenant," he said, "but," he shook his head doubtfully, "it sizes up
to me like what those police up in New York call a 'frame-up.'"

Standish exclaimed impatiently.

"It's