ention.

The Deacon had slipped out very quietly, and taken a little turn around
the end of the crib, to see that his other provisions had not been
disturbed, before he approached the cow. As he did so he saw a figure
squatted beside her, and heard a low voice say:

"So, Bos! H'ist, Lady! H'ist up, you measly heifer!"

"Well, I declare to goodness," gasped the Deacon. "How could they've
found her out so soon?"

He walked quietly up to the milker, and remarked:

"Purty early in the mornin' to do your milkin'. Didn't used to git up so
early when you was at home, did you?"

"Sh--sh--sh!" whispered the other. "Don't speak so loud. You'll wake up
that old galoot inside. Keep quiet till I fill my cup, and then I'll let
you have a chance. There'll be plenty for you."

"Purty good milker, is she?" inquired the Deacon with interest.

"Naw!" whispered the other. "She's got her bag full, but she won't give
down worth a cent."

"Better let me try my hand," said the Deacon. "You've bin away from the
farm for so long you've probably lost the knack. I'm a famous milker."

"You'll play fair?" said the milker doubtfully.

"Yes; just hold her till I go inside and git my bucket, and I'll
milk your cup clean full," answered the Deacon, starting inside the
corn-crib.

"Well, you're a cool one," gasped the milker, realizing the situation.
"But I'll hold you to your bargain, and I'll play fair with you."

The Deacon came back with his bucket, and after filling the man's cup as
full as it would hold, handed it to him, and then began drawing the rest
into his own bucket.

Careful milker that he was, he did not stop until he had stripped the
last drop, and the cow, knowing at once that a master hand was at her
udder, willingly yielded all her store.

"There," said the Deacon, "if anybody gits any more out o' her till
evenin' he's welcome to it."

Two or three other men had come up in the meanwhile with their cups, and
they started, without so much as asking, to dip their cups in.

"Hold on!" commanded the first-comer sternly. "Stop that! This old man's
a friend o' mine, and I won't see him imposed on. Go somewhere else and
git your milk."

A wordy war ensued, but the first-comer was stalwart and determined. The
row waked up Shorty, who appeared with an ax.

"All right," said one of the men, looking at the ax; "keep your durned
old milk, if you're so stingy toward hungry soldiers. It'll give you
milk-sick, anyway. There's