muzzle of a breech-loader. This little literary essay I hold in my
hands means a game of Fox-in-the-Morning. Ever play that, Frank,
when you was a kid?"

"I think so," said Goodwin, laughing. "You join hands all 'round,
and--"

"You do not," interrupted Keogh. "You've got a fine sporting game
mixed up in your head with 'All Around the Rosebush.' The spirit of
'Fox-in-the-Morning' is opposed to the holding of hands. I'll tell
you how it's played. This president man and his companion in play,
they stand up over in San Mateo, ready for the run, and shout:
"Fox-in-the-Morning!' Me and you, standing here, we say: 'Goose
and Gander!' They say: 'How many miles is it to London town?' We
say: 'Only a few, if your legs are long enough. How many comes out?'
They say: 'More than you're able to catch.' And then the game
commences."

"I catch the idea," said Goodwin. "It won't do to let the goose
and gander slip through your fingers, Billy; their feathers are too
valuable. Our crowd is prepared and able to step into the shoes
of the government at once; but with the treasury empty we'd stay
in power about as long as a tenderfoot would stick on an untamed
bronco. We must play the fox on every foot of the coast to prevent
their getting out of the country."

"By the mule-back schedule," said Keogh, "it's five days down from
San Mateo. We've got plenty of time to set our outposts. There's
only three places on the coast where they can hope to sail from--here
and Solitas and Alazan. They're the only points we'll have to guard.