nd dark in the late twilight, and as
he stood, a few big drops fell, slowly increasing until there was a
heavy down-pour. The rains had come, and soon the monotonous roar on the
metal roofs, steady as the beating of a giant heart, told that the earth
was receiving its semi-annual deluge.

Jeremiah stood in a small niche where he was partially exposed to the
rain. When it and the water from a broken gutter, striking a balustrade
beside him, splashed him with fine spray, he made no effort to move. Why
should he care? He was only a worthless old nigger. A little wetness
more or less would make no difference. A carelessness for all things
earthly and pertaining to his own worn-out old body grew upon him. Then
he suddenly ceased to think of himself. The sound of the rain in his
ears seemed to be boring into his brain. Steady, inexorable,
unanswerable as fate, it weighed upon him like a giant hand, and it came
to him that he was comparing that roar to the death that was approaching
his son.

* * * * *

When old Jeremiah left the squad room, there had been general silence
for a time, and then events began to move rapidly, as they continued to
do until the end of this peculiar episode. Sergeant Potter stood for a
moment, with his hands behind his back, gazing at the floor, then he
looked up, and cried out to the whole room:

"Look a heah, boys, is yer gwine ter be beat dis a way? Is yer gwine ter
tuck yer tails atween yer laigs, and say 'let 'er go!' as long as dere
is a chanst? Is yer goin' to 'low dat monkey-faced lootinint to grin at
yer sarcastic? Yer know me. I'se as strong fur discipline as any pu'son;
but dere's a eend to every man's patience." He jerked a hat off a bunk
near him, and threw it down. "Dis is all de dough I got in de worl'," he
said, holding up two silver dollars, "but she'll send fo' words to de
Presydent of dese United States, so heah she goes," and he tossed them
into the hat at his feet. "Come on, boys, dem as wants to be high-tone
and pass de time o' day with de Presydent, chip in."

As soon as they grasped the idea, the appeal was effectual. Out came all
the cash the black men had. It was mostly Mex. _medio pesos_ and
_pesetas_, for "pay day, pay day" had not sounded for over a month. The
silver jingled merrily into the hat, and the affair became a sort of
jollification, each man vying with the others to see how much more he
could "dig up." Their volatile natures,