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His mother, who was getting breakfast, asked him again: "Jeff, am de p'licemans tryin' to git yo'?" "Nope!" answered the colored boy. "I runned 'cause I wanted to git away from Sam Brown an' his crowd. Dey was gwine to take mah cat away from me!" "Yo' cat?" cried Jeff's mother. "Where'd yo' git a cat?" Jeff wiggled and twisted as he reached his hand inside his blouse and pulled out the China Cat.
Flossie and Freddie, though they knew how to telephone, would hardly have thought of calling up the police. But they were asked about it. "Nope, we didn't do it," Flossie said. "Though we likes p'licemans; don't we, Freddie?" "Yeppie," he answered sleepily. "When I grows up I'm goin' be a p'licemans or a firesmans I forget which." "He's sleepy," laughed the officer. "But what about this, Mr.
"De p'licemans is all aroun' de place. Dey won't let you take nuffin. But I done fooled 'em. Anyhow, de fire's out now, an' dey'll be puttin' de toys back. But I done got a white cat!" So he had, but the China Cat was not so very white now.
It was here, in some poor, miserable rooms, that Jeff lived with his brothers and sisters. "Whut de mattah, Jeff?" asked his mother, a large, fat, colored washerwoman. "Am de p'licemans after yo' a'gin?" Jeff had run so hard that he was out of breath, and could not speak for a few moments.
"Right, m'sieu. I understand. You an' your mees you giv' zee p'licemans one beeg surprise! Eees not dat so?" "That is it," laughed Stane. And Anderton's surprise was complete. Whilst it was yet dark and the stars were twinkling frostily, the three dog-teams were harnessed on the river trail. Then the policeman made the discovery that Jean Bènard's team was headed upstream.
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