swearing quietly; but the line of negroes marched on down to the wharf-
boat with the unshakable dignity of black folk in an important position.
They came singing an old negro spiritual. The women's sopranos thrilled
up in high, weird phrasing against an organ-like background of male
voices.

But the black men carried no coffin, and suddenly it occurred to Peter
Siner that perhaps this celebration was given in honor of his own home-
coming. The mulatto's heart beat a trifle faster as he began planning a
suitable response to this ovation.

Sure enough, the singing ranks disappeared behind the wharf-boat, and a
minute later came marching around the stern and lined up on the outer
guard of the vessel. The skinny, grizzly-headed negro commander held up
his sword, and the Knights and Ladies of Tabor fell silent.

The master of the launch tossed his head-line to the wharf-boat, and
yelled for one of the negroes to make it fast. One did. Then the
commandant with the sword began his address, but it was not directed to
Peter. He said:

[Illustration: Peter recognized the white aprons and the swords and
spears of the Knights and Ladies of Tabor]

"Brudder Tump Pack, we, de Hooker's Ben' lodge uv de Knights an' Ladies
uv Tabor, welcome you back to yo' native town. We is proud uv you, a
colored man, who brings back de highes' crown uv bravery dis Newnighted
States has in its power to bestow.

"Two yeahs ago, Brudder Tump, we seen you marchin' away fum Hooker's