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While the whole thing had the appearance of a conspiracy, and I was inclined to take the bull by the horns and give M the agreed signal, I was also suspicious that someone might be playing a practical joke on me. While I hesitated, M suddenly sneezed!

I have lived in the Southwest the greater part of my life and have been in some pretty tight places, and always have prided myself on my ability to take care of myself in an emergency; but the next thing I knew after M's sneeze, he was bending over me trying to staunch the blood that was flowing from a wound over my right eye, at the same time reading the riot act to me in choice language.

"What happened?" I asked, feebly.

"Why, the whole darned shooting-match jumped your way, walked over you and beat it!" he explained in exasperation. "What I've been trying to find out is why in hell you didn't shoot?"

I could not answer in words, but mutely I showed him that in my haste I carefully had put on the overalls over my clothes with my gun in the usual place in my hip pocket. It would have taken me five minutes to get it out.

"It's a good thing you had it so well hid," he remarked. "They might have taken it away from you!"

We searched the deserted house. Except for the stove it was devoid of furniture, and we found nothing in the way of a clue.

We arranged for a strict patrol of the route of the parade. Each man was given a "beat." If any man saw anything suspicious, and particularly a suspicious package, he was to investigate and report at once.

The parade was crossing the Houston Street bridge, where I happened to be, when I saw a negro man elbowing his way to the front of the crowd along the curb. In his right hand, held high over the heads of those about him, was a package wrapped in newspaper! He seemed in the act of hurling it into the street when I sprang forward and grabbed the up-*raised arm, dragging the negro back to the railing of the bridge.

"What have you got in that package?" I demanded.

"My Gawd, boss, you'se the fou'th man to ast me about ma lunch in the last five minutes. If it's worrying you white folks so much, guess I'd better git shet of it!"

Before I could prevent him, he threw it into the river, and turned to view the parade with a muttered opinion on my interference with his personal liberties. All we succeeded in