ls," he muttered.
"I saw them scatter as we rode up, and if I'd known what they'd been
doing we'd have given them a volley." Then he walked over to Mr. Camp
and said, "Give me those letters."

"I hold those letters by virtue of an order--" Camp began.

"Give me those letters," the captain interrupted.

"Do you intend a high-handed interference with the civil authorities?"
Judge Wilson demanded.

"Come, come," said the captain, sternly. "You have taken forcible
possession of United States property. Any talk about civil authorities
is rubbish, and you know it."

"I will never--" cried Mr. Camp.

"Corporal Jackson, dismount a guard of six men," rang the captain's
voice, interrupting him.

Evidently something in the voice or order convinced Mr. Camp, for the
letters were hastily produced and given to Singer, who at once handed
them to me. I turned with them to the Cullens, and, laughing, quoted,
"'All's well that ends well.'"

But they didn't seem to care a bit about the recovery of the letters,
and only wanted to have a hand-shake all round over my escape. Even
Lord Ralles said, "Glad we could be of a little service," and didn't
refuse my thanks, though the deuce knows they were badly enough
expressed, in my consciousness that I had done an ungentlemanly trick
over those trousers of his, and that he had been above remembering it
when I was in real danger. I'm ashamed enough to confess that when
Miss Cullen held out her hand I made believe not to see it. I'm a bad
hand at pretending, and I saw Madge color up at my act.

The captain finally called me off to consult about our proceedings. I
felt no very strong love for Camp, Baldwin, or Wilson, but I didn't
see that a military arrest would accomplish anything, and after a
little discussion it was decided to let them alone, as we could well
afford to do, having won.

This matter decided, I said to the captain, "I'll be obliged if you'll
put a guard round my car. And then, if you and your officers will come
inside it, I have a--something in a bottle, recommended for removing
alkali dust from the tonsils."

"Very happy to test your prescription," responded Singer, genially.

I started to go with him, but I couldn't resist turning to Mr. Camp
and his friends and saying--

"Gentlemen, the G.S. is a big affair, but it isn't quite big enough to
fight the U.S."

CHAPTER XVI

A GLOOMY GOOD-BY

At that point my importance ceased. Apparently seeing that the