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"I'm that, Charlie, too, and I want one," clamored Pip. "A sentinel ought to have one fust, 'cause he's at de door, and might hab to dribe away down-townies," said Juggie. "No, me first," said the governor. "No, me," said the president. "No, me," said the secretary. It was "me!" "me!" "me!" all over the barn chamber, and the members of that swordless club were almost at swords' points.

"Yes, straight off," said the late citizen of Boston. "But whar's de boys?" asked Juggie. "O three will do," said Sid Waters, "for you don't want many to start with. I know the club will be popular after she has been started. And then, fellers," he said, in a quiet tone, "there's a better chance for offices in a small club, you know. We can fill 'em all now and get good berths."

There were several so-called "tables," such as an old window-blind and a disused shelf propped up by various supports like boxes and barrels. These tables were covered with pieces of the old curtain, now doing service for the last time. "Here is the confectionery table," shouted Juggie. There were now on the table three pieces of molasses candy made by his grandmother.

"It's de best barn in de lane," said Juggie Jones, a little colored boy, his dark eyes lighting up with true interest. "Well, I think it is a pretty good barn," rejoined Charlie Macomber, with apparent unconcern. At the same time a secret pride was dwelling in his bosom, that suddenly made his jacket too tight for him.

Away they all went, Rick strutting forward with great dignity, but Juggie waved his flag cautiously, for the flourishing of such a long pole might lead to his capsizing. Tony followed Juggie. Billy and Pip still tugged at the go-cart that the president continued to monopolize. Charlie solemnly guarded the precious freight in the "chariot."

The curtain rose and there stood the inheritor of the warlike name of Jugurtha. He was rather sober and melancholy, and was dressed in a semi-military style that betrayed not in the least the fact to what flag he might possibly be attached. Sid was crouching down, hiding behind a barrel. "What am I?" Juggie now asked in low tones, "American or British?"

"Guess I'll go," thought Wort, and off he hurried to tell the club his ill-success, and that their detective in search of a thief had been called one. A few minutes later Juggie exclaimed to the disconsolate circle, "Dar's de organ-grinder." It was indeed he hurrying along the lane and turning a troubled face toward the barn, for no monkey came with him. Had he lost his friend from the far South?

"Of course," Sid was heard to say, "you are an American, or ought to be. Hush up!" Juggie now strode over the floor, an exiled broom-handle resting on his shoulder. Suddenly a step was heard. From the rear of a box crept out the governor. He wore a farmer's dress, and was half smothered under his father's tall hat. "Advance!" shouted Juggie, "and gib de count count "

Juggie Jones full name Jugurtha Bonaparte Jones was a little colored fellow lately from the South, now living with his granny, a washer-woman, in a little yellow house at the head of the lane. He was always laughing and showing his white teeth. He was a great favorite with the boys. Wort and Juggie were of the same age as Charlie, nine.

"Knock off his hat," whispered Sid. "What's de matter wid your hat?" and as Juggie shouted this, he fetched the governor's hat a merciless rap, one that would have been serious had not the governors head luckily been in the first story of the hat. As the hat dropped, Juggie seized a paper that fell out, and exclaimed, "A spy, a spy! A note to de British commander!" "Seize him!