this day."

"You jest bet your sweet life there won't be, either," returned
Shorty. He felt not a little elated over his brevet rank and the
responsibilities of his position as Corporal of the Guard. "This here
camp'll be as dry as the State o' Maine to-day."

It was a hot, dull day, with little to occupy the time of those off
guard. As usual, Satan was finding "some mischief for idle hands to do."

After he put on the first relief, Si went back to the guard tent and
busied himself awhile over the details of work to be found there. There
were men under sentence of hard labor that he had to find employment
for, digging roots, cleaning up the camp, chopping wood and making
trenches. He got the usual chin-music from those whom he set to enforced
toil, about the injustice of their sentences and "the airs that some
folks put on when they wear a couple of stripes," but he took
this composedly, and after awhile went the rounds to look over his
guard-line, taking Shorty with him.

Everything seemed straight and soldierly, and they sat down by a cool
spring in a little shady hollow.

"Did you ever notice, Shorty," said Si, speculatively, as he looked over
the tin cup of cool water he{167} was sipping, "how long and straight
and string-like the cat-brier grows down here in this country? You see
25 or 30 feet of it at times no thicker'n wooltwine. Now, there's a
piece layin' right over there, on t'other side o' the branch, more'n a
rod long, and no thicker'n a rye straw."

"I see it, an' I never saw a piece o' cat-brier move endwise before,"
said Shorty, fixing his eyes on the string-like green.

"As sure's you're alive, it is movin'," said Si, starting to rise.

"Set still, keep quiet an' watch," admonished Shorty. "You'll find out
more."

Si sat still and looked. The direction the brier was moving was toward
the guard-line, some 100 feet away to the left. About the same distance
to the right was a thicket of alders, where Si thought he heard voices.
There were indications in the weeds that the cat-brier extended to
there.

The brier maintained its outward motion. Presently a clump of rags was
seen carried along by it.

"They're sending out their money for whisky," whispered Shorty. "Keep
quiet, and we'll confiscate the stuff when it comes in."

They saw the rag move straight toward the guardline, and pass under the
log on which the sentry walked when he paced his beat across the branch.
It finally disappeared in