"What are you up to?" Si asked.
"I've bin thinkin about pickpockets," answered Shorty. "They're an awful slick lot, and I've thought of a hiding place that'll fool 'em."
He picked up his faithful Springfield, and drawing an envelope with money out of his shirt-pocket, rolled it up to fit the muzzle of his gun, and then rammed it down.
"That's Jim Meddler's $10," he said. "I'll know it, because his mother's name's on the envelope. Here goes Pete Irvin's $20. I know it because it has his wife's name on it."
He continued until he had the barrel of the gun filled, and then stopped to admire his cunning.
"Now, nobody but me'd ever thought o' hidin' money in a gun. That's safe, as least. All I've got to do is to stick to my gun until we git acrost the Ohio River. But I hain't got the tenth part in; where kin I put the rest? O, there's my cartridge-box and cap-box. Nobody'll think o' lookin' there for money."
He filled both those receptacles, but still had fully half his money left on his person.
"That'll just have to take its chances with the pickpockets," said he, and returned to his bed, with his gun by his side, and his cap- and cartridge-boxes under his head.
The morning came, with their money all right, as they assured themselves by careful examination immediately after reveille.
As they fell in under Lieut. Bowersox to start, their comrades crowded around to say good-by, give additional messages for the home-folks, and directions as to their money, and what they wanted bought.