king all manner of winks and warning gestures without avail, for the
Deacon answered frankly:

"I brung her in."

"You're just the man I'm looking for," returned the officer. Then
turning to a Sergeant who had just come up at the end of a squad, he
said:

"Here, Sergeant, take charge of this citizen and this cow, and bring
them both up to Army Headquarters. Don't let that citizen get away from
you. He's a slick one."

As they moved off. Shorty bolted into the crib and shouted:

"Great Jehosephat, Si, that dad of your'n 's a goner! He's got nerve
that looms up like Lookout Mountain! He's a genius! He's got git-up and
git to spare! What do you think he done last night? Walked up to Gen.
Rosecrans's Headquarters, and stole the General's cow right from under
the noses o' the Headquarters Guards, and brung her down here and milked
her. Did you ever hear o' sich snap? I only wisht that me and you was
half the man that he is, old as he is. The only trouble is that he isn't
as good a hider as he is on the take. They've dropped on to him, and
they're now takin' him up to Headquarters. But he'll find some way to
git off. There's no end to that man. And to think that we've bin playin'
him right along for a hayseed."

And Shorty groaned in derision of his own acumen.

"Pop stole Gen. Rosecrans's cow from Headquarters? They've arrested
him and are taking him up there?" ejaculated Si in amazement. "I don't
believe a word of it."

"Well, the cow was here. He brung her here last night, and owned up to
it. He milked her, and you drunk some of the milk. The Provost-Guard's
now walkin' the cow and him up to Headquarters. These are early mornin'
facts. You kin believe what you dumbed please."

"Pap arrested and taken to Army Headquarters," groaned Si, in deepest
anxiety. "What in the world will they do with him?"

"O, don't worry," said Shorty cheerfully.

"Your dad ain't as green as you are, if he has lived all his life on
the Wabash. He's as fly as you make 'em. He's fixin' up some story as he
goes along that'll git him out of the scrape slick as a whistle. Trust
him."

"Shorty," said Si severely, "my father don't fix up stories. Understand
that. He's got some explanation for this. Depend upon it."

"They call it explanation when it gits a feller out, and blamed lie when
it don't," muttered Shorty to himself, as he went out again, to follow
the squad as far as he could with his eyes. "Anyway, I'll bet on the
Deacon."