did you get that cow?"

"I have bin tellin' you the truth," protested Shorty with an injured
air. "Why should I tell you a lie about a little thing like a cow?"

"You are not within a mile of the truth. I know it. Look here: I believe
that is Gen. Rosecrans's own cow. She's gone, and I got an order to look
around for her. I've never seen her, but from the description given me I
believe that's she. Who brought her here?"

[Illustration: PURTY GOOD MILKER, IS SHE? INQUIRED THE DEACON 51]

"Great Jehosephat, he's after the Deacon," thought Shorty with a
shudder. "I mustn't let him git him." Then he spoke out boldly:

"I brung her here."

"Shorty," said the officer with a smile, "I admire your talents for
prevarication more than I can express. As a good, off-hand, free-going,
single-gaited liar you have few equals and no superiors. Your lies
usually have so much probability in them that they seem better than the
truth--for your purposes. But this has no probability whatever in it.
I doubt if you are able to walk to Headquarters. If you were well and
strong, I should believe you quite capable not only of stealing the cow
from Army Headquarters, but President Lincoln's cow from his back-door
of the White House. But you are good now because you haven't strength
enough to be up to any devilment. Now, tell me, who brought that cow
here?"

"I brung her here myself, I tell you. I felt unusually peart last night.
Felt that I had to snatch something jest to keep my hand in, like.
Couldn't find nothin' else on four legs worth takin', and couldn't
take nothin' that couldn't walk. So I took her. You kin send me to the
guard-house if you want to. I expect I deserve it."

And Shorty tried to look contrite and penitent.

"Yes; you're in nice shape to send to the guardhouse. I'd sent you there
quick enough if you were well, for telling me such a preposterous
lie. You've usually paid more respect to my intelligence by telling me
stories that I could believe if I wanted to, as I usually wanted do; but
this is too much."

As the conversation began the Deacon had passed out with a bucket to
go to the creek for water for the cow. He now came back, set the bucket
down in front of the cow, and began, from force of long habit in caring
for his stock, to pick off some burs, and otherwise groom her.

"Say, my friend," said the officer, "who brought that cow in?"

Shorty had been frantically trying to catch the Deacon's eye, and was
ma