"Possibly you have made a mistake, Sergeant," said the General. "What evidence have you?"
"We'd got word to look out for just such a man, who'd play off the dodge of being an old plug of a farmer on a visit to his son."
"He was on the train with a man whom all the detectives know as one of the worst Knights in the gang. They were talking together all the way. I arrested the other one, too, but he slipped away in the row this man made to distract our attention."
In the meantime Deacon Klegg had gotten his carpetsack open for the General's inspection. It was a sorry sight inside. Butter, honey, shirts, socks, boots, and cakes are excellent things taken separately, but make a bad mixture. Deacon Klegg looked very dejected. The rest grinned broadly.
"I don't seem to see anything treasonable so far," said the General. "Sergeant, take the rest of your prisoners up to the Provost-Marshal, and leave this man with me."
"Gen. Rosecrans," said a familiar voice, "you ordered us to report to you this mornin' at 10 o'clock. We're here."
The General looked up and saw Corporal Si Klegg and Shorty standing at a "salute."
"Si!" said the Deacon, joyously, sticking out a hand badly smeared with honey and butter.