Ben had an errand to Uncle Sam's tailor while at Manila, for his old uniform was worn out, and he must be measured for a new one, as befitted a newly appointed major. He took Larry with him to the building in which uniforms were stored, altered, and made, and soon had his errand over.
"We had something in the way of excitement here last night," said one of the tailors. "Some natives broke in and made off with about thirty suits."
"Didn't they catch the thieves?"
"They caught one of the fellows and recovered ten suits. But the other rascals got away, and twenty suits are still missing. It does beat the nation how those natives can do it, with so many of our soldiers around."
"You have no trace of those who got away?"
"No. They went off through a back alley,—the one that runs beside the prison,—and that was the last seen of them. The guard fired three shots, but they did no good," concluded the tailor. Then he turned to others who were waiting, and Ben and Larry walked away, little dreaming of how important to them was the news they had just heard.
