low came in at 10 o'clock he found Shorty at the head of
12 good men, all armed and equipped, and eager for the service.

"In talking with the Secret Service men," explained the Lieutenant,
"they suggested that it would be well to have one good man, a stranger,
dressed in citizen's clothes--butternut jeans, if possible--to go ahead
at times and reconnoiter. He ought to be able to play off refugee rebel,
if possible."

"I'll do it. I'm just the man," said Shorty eagerly.

"Well, just come in here," said the Lieutenant. "Now, there's a lot of
butternut jeans. I guess there's a pair of pantaloons long enough for
you."

When Shorty emerged from the room again there was a complete
transformation. Except that his hair was cut close, he was a perfect
reproduction of the tall, gaunt, slouching Tennesseean.

"Perfect," said the Lieutenant, handing him a couple of heavy Remington
revolvers. "Stow these somewhere about your clothes, and get that
blacking off your shoes as soon as you can, and you'll do."

It was planned that they should sleep until near morning, when the spies
of the Knights of the Golden Circle were not alert, enter a freight-car,
which they would keep tightly shut, to escape observation, while the
train ran all day toward a point within easy reach of their quarry. It
would arrive there after dark, and so they hoped to catch the Knights
entirely unawares, and in the full bloom of their audacity and pride.

The car which the squad entered was locked and sealed, and labeled,
"Perishable freight. Do not delay." Their presence was kept secret
from all the train hands but the conductor, a man of known loyalty and
discretion.

Shorty being in disguise, it was decided that he should saunter down
apart from the rest and take his place in the caboose. He lay down on
the long seat, drew his slouch-hat over his eyes, and seemed to go to
sleep. The train pulled out to the edge of the yard, went onto a switch
and waited for the early morning accommodation to pass out and get the
right-of-way.

A heavily-built, middle-aged man, whose coarse face had evidently been
closely shaved a few days before, entered, carrying a large carpet-sack,
which was well-filled and seemingly quite heavy. He set this carefully
down on the seat, in the corner, walked up to the stove, warmed his
hands, glanced sharply at Shorty, said "Good morning," to which Shorty
replied with a snore, took a plug of tobacco from his pocket, from
which he