Unfortunately, in one of the localities visited, colored people were very scarce, and it did not take the boys long to discover the sham, when they at once began shouting, “Here is a lost, crazy nigger,” and they followed him, throwing bricks and stones. At other times the officers were obliged to hustle away with their “Hebrew negro,” as they called him, as soon as possible. They got back to the station about eleven o’clock that evening, and, entering my office, Oppenheimer was permitted to view his ebony countenance in a mirror. He was startled by his make-up and declared that it was most artistically done. “Mein Gott, if I was asleep,” he exclaimed, “and wake up, and looked in the glass, I’d think I was a real nigger.” On the next day he was taken by the officers, in a carriage, to Lake View, about three miles from the city limits, to locate the bombs. It was a rainy day, and it was no easy matter for Oppenheimer to determine the right spot, although he kept a sharp look-out. He had planted them during the night, and that added to the difficulty. Finally he directed the driver to a grove used as picnic grounds, and they soon reached the spot. It now rained hard, and lightning and thunder filled the air with light and noise. Oppenheimer hesitated about alighting from the carriage. “It is dangerous,” he said, “to go near the place. The bombs I have planted here are all loaded with dynamite, and charged with poisoned iron, and this heavy thunder may explode them and kill us all.” Officer Schuettler said that he himself was familiar with the properties of dynamite, and assured him that there would not be the slightest danger. Oppenheimer then became somewhat braver. He jumped out and beckoned to his companions to follow. They proceeded to the dancing-platform, in the middle of the grove, and Oppenheimer, having removed some short boards, making an opening large enough for the admission of a man’s body, asked Loewenstein to take hold of his legs, and, when he shouted, to pull him out, adding that when he had been there before he had had a hard time getting out. Oppenheimer then went in. On giving the signal, he was pulled out, with one bomb in each hand. He was thus lowered and pulled out until he had produced thirteen bombs. They were of the heavy gas-pipe make, loaded with dynamite and rusty nails, with cap attachments, and ready for use in four seconds. To show that he had exercised great care to preserve the “stuff” properly, he asked to be lowered again, and this time he brought to the surface an oil-cloth table-cover, which, he explained, he had used for wrapping up the bombs so that “they would not spoil on him.” He also fished out of the place two large navy revolvers fully loaded. Having finished, Oppenheimer gave a sigh of relief and remarked: