Shorty?" asked Si, as he looked
over the increasing gang. "Hadn't we better ask for some help?"

"Not a bit of it," answered Shorty, confidently. "That'll look like
weakenin' to the Lieutenant and the Provo. We kin manage this gang, or
we'll leave 'em dead in the brush."

"All right," assented Si, who had as little taste as his partner for
seeming to weaken. "Here goes for a fight or a foot-race."

While the Deputy was making out a list of the men and writing a note
to the Sheriff, Shorty went through the gang and searched each man for
arms. Then he took out his knife and carefully cut the suspender buttons
from every one of their pantaloons.

"Now we've got 'em, Si," he said gleefully, as he returned to his
partner's side, with his hand full of buttons. "They'll have to use
both hands to hold their britches on, so they kin neither run nor fight.
They'll be as peaceable as lambs."

"Shorty," said Si, in tones of fervent admiration, "I wuz afeared that
crack you got on your head softened your brains. But now I see it made
you brighter'n ever. You'll be wearin' a General's stars before this war
is over."

"Bob Ramsey was a-blowin' about knowin' how to handle men," answered
Shorty. "I'm just goin' to bring him over here and show him this trick
that he never dreamed of."

After he had gloated over Sergeant Ramsey, Shorty got his men into
the road ready to start. Si placed himself in front of the squad and
deliberately loaded his musket in their sight. Shorty took his place in
the rear, and gave out:

"Now, you roosters, you see I've two revolvers, and I'm a dead shot with
either hand. I'm good for 12 of you at the first jump and my partner kin
'tend to the rest. Now, if I see a man so much as make a motion toward
the side o' the road I'll drop him. Give the command. Sergeant Klegg."

"Forward--march!" ordered Si.

It was as Shorty predicted. The prisoners had entirely too much
solicitude about their garments to think of anything else, and the march
was made without incident. Late in the afternoon they reached the County
seat, and marched directly for the public square, in which the jail was
situated. There were a few people on the streets, who gathered on the
sidewalks to watch the queer procession. Shorty, with both hands on his
revolvers, had his eyes fixed on the squad, apprehensive of an attempt
to bolt and mix with the crowd. He looked neither to the right nor the
left, but was conscious that they were pas