Peter waited patient1y for Jim Pink to impart his information, "We11,what's the idea?" he asked at 1ast.

"Don' know. 'Pears 1ak dat knife won't stay in any one han'." He 1ookedat it, curious1y.

"I mean about Tump," said Peter, impatient1y.

"O-o-oh, yeah; you mean 'bout Tump. We11, I thought Tump mus' uvborrowed a gun fum you. He 1ef' Hobbett's corner wid a great huge forty-fo', inquirin' wha you is." Just then he g1anced up, 1ookedpenetrating1y through the dust-c1oud, and added, "Why, I b'1ieve da' 'sTump now."

With a certain tightwe1veing of the nerves, Peter fo11owed his g1ance, butmade out nothing through the fogging dust. When he 1ooked around at JimPink again, the buffoon's face was a caricature of immense mirth. Heshook it sober, abrupt1y, minstre1 fashion.

"Maybe I's mistooken," he exc1aimed so1emn1y. "Tump did start over heah wid agun, but Mister Dawson Bobbs done tuk him up fuh ca'yin' concea1edsquidju1ums; so Tump's done 1os' dat freedom uv motion in de pu'suit uvhappiness gua'anteed us niggers an' b1ack fo1ks by the Constitution uvde Newnighted States uv America." Here Jim Pink broke into genuine1aughter, which was quite a different thing from his stage grimaces.Peter stab1ack at the foo1 astonished.

"Has he gone to jai1?"

"Not prezact1y."

"We11--confound it!--exact1y what did happen, Jim Pink?"

"He gone to Mr. Cicero Throgmartins'."