e finished shearing off the superabundant
hair, and surveyed the work. "That ain't as purty a job as if your
mother'd done it, but you'll feel lighter and cleaner, and be healthier.
If hair was only worth as much as wool is now, I'd have enough to pay
me for the job. But I must clean it up keerfully and burn it, that the
birds mayn't git hold of it and give you the headache."

The Deacon had his little superstitions, like a great many other
hard-headed, sensible men.

"Well, Mr. Klegg," said the Surgeon, when he made his next round,
"I must congratulate you on your patients. Both show a remarkable
improvement. You ought to apply for a diploma, and go into the practice
of medicine. You have done more for them in the two or three hours than
I have been able to do in as many weeks. If you could only keep up this
pace awhile I would be able to return them to duty very soon. I have an
idea. Do you see that corn-crib over there?"

"The one built of poles? Yes."

"Well, I have some things stored there, and I have been able to hold it
so far against the soldiers, who are snatching every stick of wood they
can find, for their cabins, or for the breastworks, or firewood. I
don't know how long I'll be able to keep it, unless I have personal
possession. I believe you can make it into a comfortable place for these
two men. That will help them, you can be by yourselves, you can take
care of my things, and it will relieve the crowd in the tent."

"Splendid idea," warmly assented the Deacon. "I'll chink and daub it,
and make it entirely comfortable, and fix up bunks in it for the boys. I
know they'll be delighted at the change. I wonder where Shorty is?"

The Deacon had just remembered that he had not seen that individual for
some little time, and looked around for him with some concern. It was
well that he did. Shorty had come across the haversack that the Deacon
had brought, and it awakened all his old predatory instincts, sharpened,
if anything, by his feebleness. Without saying a word to any body, he
had employed the time while the Surgeon and Deacon were in conversation
in preparing one of his customary gorges after a long, hard march.

He had broken up the crackers into a tin-cup of water which sat by his
side, while he was frying out pieces of fat pork in a half-canteen.

"My goodness, man!" shouted the Deacon, spring ing toward him. "Are you
crazy? If you eat that mess you'll be dead before morning."

He sprang toward