“I’ve blacked them boots. I know ’em well—there is the impression of the two hearts in the mud, and there ain’t but one pair of boots in our camp as has two hearts made with nails in the ball of each boot. Oh, you darn—”
Something caught the eye of Nettleton in the water. He sprung in and secured it. It proved to be a handkerchief, which bore a name upon the corner. He gazed upon it a moment, and said:
“The man as had on them boots stood in them tracks, and washed himself in that river. He wiped upon this hankercher and then threw it into the water. Folks as washes the evidence of murder off their hands, don’t wash in the river, throw away the wiper, and then take a tin pot of bloody water to—”
“What the devil are you doing here?”
Nettleton turned to behold a party of six horsemen who had suddenly approached him. In his anxiety he had forgotten to change his clothing—that is, to cover his blue uniform with the rough gray suit he wore underneath.
“So, you are a Yankee soldier,” exclaimed one of the party.
“No I ain’t; I’m a darn skunk.”
This reply, and the ungainly appearance of Nettleton, caused a laugh throughout the entire party.
“You are not a Yankee soldier? Then what are you doing with that uniform?”
Nettleton looked at his dress, and for the first time became conscious that he had not changed it. He, however, instantly replied: