uealers," he drawled;
"some in sties and some runnin' loose."

Major Grover, who had appeared to enjoy this dialogue, interrupted
it now.

"That would seem to settle the spy question," he said. "You may
go, all three of you," he added, turning to the carpenters. They
departed, Jed's particular enemy muttering to himself and Mr. Wixon
laughing uproariously. The major once more addressed Jed.

"Where is the little girl you were with?" he asked.

"Eh? Oh, she's over yonder just 'round the p'int, sailin' a
shingle boat I made her. Shall I call her?"

"No, it isn't necessary. Mr. Winslow, I'm sorry to have put you to
all this trouble and to have cooled your--er--chowder. There is no
regulation against visitors to our reservation here just now,
although there will be, of course, later on. There is a rule
against building fires on the beach, but you broke that in
ignorance, I'm sure. The reason why you have been cross-questioned
to-day is a special one. A construction plan has been lost, as
Lieutenant Rayburn here informed you. It was on his desk in the
office and it has disappeared. It may have been stolen, of course,
or, as both windows were open, it may have blown away. You are
sure you haven't seen anything of it? Haven't seen any papers
blowing about?"

"I'm sure it didn't blow away, sir," put in the lieutenant. "I'm
positive it was stolen. You see--"

He did not finish his sentence. The expression upon Jed's face
caused him to pause. Mr. Winslow's mouth and eyes were opening
wider and wider.

"Sho!" muttered Jed. "Sho, now! . . . 'Tain't possible that . . .
I snum if . . . Sho!"

"Well, what is it?" demanded both officers, practically in concert.

Jed did not reply. Instead he turned his head, put both hands to
his mouth and shouted "Babbie!" through them at the top of his
lungs. The third shout brought a faint, "Yes, Uncle Jed, I'm
coming."

"What are you calling her for?" asked Lieutenant Rayburn,
forgetting the presence of his superior officer in his anxious
impatience. Jed did not answer. He was kneeling beside his
jacket, which he had thrown upon the sand when he landed, and was
fumbling in the pockets. "Dear me! dear me!" he was muttering.
"I'm sartin they must be here. I KNOW I put 'em here because . . .
OW!"

He was kneeling and holding the coat with one hand while he fumbled
in the pockets with the other. Unconsciously he had leaned
backward until he sat upon his he