"Now, Zack," urged the Colonel, "tell me the truth! What was that racket about?"
Zack hung his head and paid strict attention to picking off a few grains of sand.
"Out with it," ordered the Colonel.
Old Reliable grinned sheepishly. "Twarn't nothin', Cunnel, nothin' 'cept a passel o' tomfoolery. Some niggers, jes soon as dey gits lodge clothes on 'em, dey commence to ack biggety—specially dese yaller niggers. Yonder's dat Grand Gardeen, jes look at 'im, all puffed up wid hisself."
"That what?"
"Grand Gardeen. I hailed him wid de sign an' password, an' dem four niggers shoved me down. Dey can't have no 'nishiashun right in front o' white folks' hotel. Must be new members what don't know deir business."
Lyttleton and McDonald listened intently, trying to get the straight of what had occurred. Perhaps there might be a deeper meaning and they wanted to know.
"Kindly repeat that; I do not understand," inquired Lyttleton. Zack began to feel easier; his apologetic grin became beautiful and beaming, "You see, Mister, dem niggers is members o' my lodge. Dat fellow wid striped clothes on, he's de Gran' Noble Gardeen; dat's de head-leader-boss. Dey must be holdin' gran' lodge. Ev'y
