al," commanded the Lieutenant. "Put him in
the guard-house till tomorrow, when we'll drum him out of camp, with his
partner, who is running that store."

The Corporal caught the Deacon by the arm roughly and pulled him into
the rear of the squad, which hurried toward the store. The crowd in
front had an inkling of what was coming. In a twinkling of an eye they
made a rush on the store, each man snatched a can or a jug, and began
bolting away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The storekeeper ran out the back way, and tried to make his escape, but
the Sergeant of the provost squad threw down his musket and took after
him. The storekeeper ran fast, inspired by fear and the desire to save
his ill-gotten gains, but the Sergeant ran faster, and presently brought
him back, panting and trembling, to witness the demolition of his
property. The shanty was being torn down, each plank as it came off
being snatched up by the soldiers to carry off and add to their own
habitations. The "canned fruit" was being punched with bayonets, and the
jugs smashed by gun-butts.

"You are a cheeky scoundrel," said the Lieutenant, addressing himself
to the storekeeper, "to come down here and try to run such a dead-fall
right in the middle of camp. But we'll cure you of any such ideas as
that. You'll find it won't pay at all to try such games on us. You'll go
to the guard house, and to-morrow we'll shave your head and drum you and
your partner there out of camp."

"I ain't no partner o' his," protested the Deacon earnestly. "My name's
Josiah Klegg, o' Posey County, Injianny. I'm down here on a visit to
my son in the 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry. I'm a Deacon in the
Baptist Church, and a Patriarch of the Sons o' Temperance. It'd be the
last thing in the world I'd do to sell whisky."

"That story won't wash, old man," said the Lieutenant. "You were caught
in the act, with the goods in your possession, and trying to deceive
me."

He turned away to order the squad forward. As they marched along the
storekeeper said to the Deacon:{226}

"I'm afraid they've got me dead to rights, old man, but you kin git
out. Just keep up your sanctimonious appearance and stick to your
Deacon story, and you'll git off. I know you. I've lived in Posey County
myself. I'm going to trust you. I've already made a clean big profit on
this venture, and I've got it right down in my pocket. In spite of all
they've spiled, I'd be nigh $500 ahead o' the game if I c