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Lincoln, Joseph Crosby, 1870-1944

"Shavings"

Then he laughed. "Shall I call a
guard, sir?" he asked, addressing the lieutenant. "Better have him
searched, I should say. Nine chances to one he's got the plan in
his pocket."
The officer--he was very young--hesitated. Jed, who had not taken
his eyes from the face of the man who had called him a German spy,
spoke again.
"You haven't answered me yet," he drawled. "You was only foolin'
when you said that, wasn't you?"
The lieutenant, who may have felt that he had suddenly become a
negligible factor in the situation, essayed to take command of it.
"Shut up," he ordered, addressing Winslow. Then to the other,
"Yes, call a guard. We'll see if we can't get a straight answer
from this fellow. Hurry up."
The workman turned to obey. But, to his surprise, his path was
blocked by Jed, who quietly stepped in front of him.
"I guess likely, if you wasn't foolin', you'd better take back what
you called me," said Jed.
They looked at each other. The workman was tall and strong, but
Jed, now that he was standing erect, was a little taller. His
hands, which hung at his sides, were big and his arms long. And in
his mild blue eye there was a look of unshakable determination.
The workman saw that look and stood still.
"Hurry up!" repeated the lieutenant.
Just how the situation might have ended is uncertain.


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