"What!" exclaimed the policeman, startled; "Charley ain't goin' to let
that nigger out!"

"Ain't he? Oh, you needn't worry, he ain't goin' _fur_! All he's
waiting fer is fer you to give the signal."

"Me!" The man in the helmet drew back.

"Yessir, you! You walk out there and lounge up towards the drug-store
and jest look over to Charley and nod twice. Then you stand on the
corner and watch and see what you see. When you _see_ it, you
yell fer Charley and git into the drug store telephone, and call up
the health office and git their men up here and into that Dago cellar
like hell! The nigger'll be there. They don't know him, and he'll just
drop in to try and sell the Dagoes some policy tickets. You understand
_me_?"

"Mother Mary in heaven!" The policeman sprang up. "What are you going
to do?"

"What am I going to do?" shrilled the other, the light of a monstrous
pride in his little eyes. "I'm goin' to quarantine them Dagoes fer
fourteen days. They'll learn some politics before I git through with
'em. Maybe they'll know enough United States language to foller their
leader next time!"

"By all that's mighty, Pixley," said the policeman, with an admiration
that was almost reverence, "you _are_ a schemer!"