and then you'll git the goods.
This ain't no credit concern with a stay-law attachment. Cash in advance
saves bookkeeping."

"Well, I declare," muttered the Deacon, as he fished a greenback out of
a leather pocketbook fastened with a long strap. "This is the first time
I ever had to pay for things before I got 'em."

"Never went to a circus, then, old man, or run for office," replied
the storekeeper, and his humor was rewarded with a roar of laughter.
"Anything else? Speak quick or step back."

"I'll take a can o' them preserved peaches and a quart jug o' that
genuine Injianny maple molasses," said the Deacon desperately, naming
two articles which seemed much in demand.

"All right; $2 for the peaches, and $2 more for the molasses."

"Sakes alive!" ejaculated the Deacon, producing the strapped pocketbook
again. "Five dollars gone, and precious little to show for it."

He took his jug and his can, and started back to the cabin. A couple
of hundred yards away he met a squad of armed men marching toward the
store, under the command of a Lieutenant. He stepped to one side to let
them pass, but the Lieutenant halted them, and asked authoritatively:

"What have you got there, sir?"

"Jest some things I've been buyin' for the boys' dinner," answered the
Deacon.

"Indeed! Very likely," remarked the Lieutenant sarcastically. He struck
the jug so sharply with his sword that it was broken, and the air was
filled{224} with a powerful odor of whisky. The liquor splashed over the
Deacon's trousers and wet them through. The expression of anger on his
face gave way to one of horror. He had always been one of the most rigid
of Temperance men, and fairly loathed whisky in all shapes and uses.

"Just as I supposed, you old vagabond," said the Lieutenant,
contemptuously. "Down here sneaking whisky into camp. We'll stop that
mighty sudden."

He knocked the can of peaches out of the Deacon's arms and ran his sword
into it. A gush of whisky spurted out. The Sergeant took the package of
cheese away and broke it open, revealing a small flask of liquor.

"The idea of a man of your age being engaged in such business," said the
Lieutenant indignantly. "You ought to be helping to keep the men of the
army sober, instead of corrupting them to their own great injury. You
are doing them more harm than the rebels."

The Deacon was too astonished and angry to reply. Words utterly failed
him in such a crisis.

"Take charge of him, Corpor