"Well, so I am; but they have him down there stowed away, and a whole regiment of soldiers wouldn't be able to get in, unless that dog is put out of the way. And that pesky old woman looks more like the devil than a human being. I wouldn't venture back there alone for the whole north half of Michigan!"
"But isn't this the man you want?" pointing to me.
"The devil, no. What do I want of the telegraph operator? I want Johnston, but I'd give more for that —— old woman's scalp and that dog's life than I would for a dozen Johnstons and all the horses in the state, and I——"
"But," interrupted the landlord, "this isn't the operator; this is Johnston,—or at least, he's the man who rode the horse here."
"The dickens he is!" shrieked the officer. "This is the man who sent me up there, and—"
"Did you get in?" I asked, insinuatingly.
"Get in? I want you to understand this is no joke, sir!" said he, as he came towards me in a threatening manner. "And if you're Johnston you ought to have your heart cut out. Look at me, look at me, sir: Do you think there is anything funny about this?"
"Well, I thought I'd give you a little sharp detective work to do before capturing my horse, so you would have something wonderful to relate when you arrived home."
"Then you're the man I want, are you?"
"Yes, sir, I suppose I am; but really, my friend, I didn't suppose you were going to lose all your clothes, and get completely knocked out and so thoroughly demoralized. How did it all happen?"