avior-killing Jew,' said he. 'Shut up your
mouth, or I'll stuff a piece of pork in it. I want to know at once what
you are doing here? Where did you come from?'

"'I come from Memphis,' said I. 'I'm in the service of the Southern
Confedrisy. General Pillow sent{29} me to gather up all the Mexican
dollars I could find, to send to Mexico to buy ammunition.'

"'It's a lie, of course,' said he. 'A Jew'd rather lie than eat, any
day. Then you're one of them St. Louis Dutch--them imported Hessians.
They're all dead against us. They all ought to be killed. I ought to
kill you myself for being so cussed mean to me.'

"He put his hand on his revolver in a way that made my breakfast sour
in my stomach, but then I knew that Bob Smiles was a great blowhard, unt
his bark was much worse than his bite. In St. Louis he was always going
to fight somebody unt kill somebody, but he never done neither. Quite a
crowd gathered around, unt Bob blew off to them, unt they yelled,
'Hang the Jew spy. Kill the damn rascal,' and other things that made me
unhappy. But what made my flesh crawl was to see a man who wasn't saying
much, go to a wagon, pull out a rope, unt begin making a noose on the
end. Bob Smiles caught hold of my collar unt started to drag me toward
a tree. Just as I was giving up everything for lost, up comes Jim
Jones--the same man I'm going to meet here--he come runnin' up. He was
dressed in full uniform as a rebel officer--gray coat unt pants, silver
stars on his collar, high boots, gray slouched hat with gold cord, unt
so on.

"'Here, what is the matter? What's all this fuss in camp?' he said.

"'We've ketched one of them Dutch Jews from St. Louis spying our camp,
Major,' said Bob Smiles, letting loose of my collar to salute the
Major's silver stars. 'And we are going to hang him.'{30}

"'A spy? How do you know he's a spy?'" asked Jim Jones.

"'Well, he's Dutch; he's a Jew, unt he's from St. Louis. What more do
you want?'" asked Bob Smiles.

[Illustration: TRYING TO SAVE HIS NECK. 30]

The crowd yelled, unt de man with the rope went to the tree unt flung
one end over a limb.

"'His being a St. Louis Dutchman is against him,'{31} said Jim Jones,
'but his being a Jew is in his favor. A Jew don't care a blame for
politics. He hain't got no principles. He'd rather make a picayune off
you in a trade than have a wagon-load of principles. But you fellers
have got nothing to do with spies, anyway. That's headquarters' bizniss