“Hello!” answered Westerfelt, drawing rein; “I’m lookin’ for an iron gray, flea-bitten horse that strayed away from the livery-stable this morning; have you fellows seen anything of him?”

“No, I hain’t.”  This in a dogged tone from a slouched hat just above a whiskey barrel.

There was a pause.

“I don’t think anybody could have taken him,” continued Westerfelt, pleasantly.

“Hain’t seed ’im.”  The speaker struck the wagon-bed with his rifle as he was trying to put it down behind the barrels without being seen.

“The left hand road leads to town, I believe?” said Westerfelt, riding away.

“Yes, but take the right at the next fork.”

About half a mile farther on he saw two horsemen, approaching.  When quite near they stopped.

“Howdy’ do?” said one, eying Westerfelt suspiciously.

“How are you?” answered Westerfelt.

“We are revenue men; we’re after a couple o’ men and a wagon loaded with whiskey.  Seen anything of them?”

Westerfelt was silent.  The revenue officer who had spoken rested his elbow on his thigh and leaned towards him.

“Looky’ here,” he said, deliberately; “we don’t know one another, but there may be no harm in tellin’ you if you try to throw us off the track you lay yoreself liable to complicity.  We’ve had about as much o’ that sort o’ treatment round heer as we are going to put up with.”

“I’m not on the witness-stand,” said Westerfelt, pleasantly; “I’m only looking for a stray horse.”

“Let’s go on,” said the other Officer to his companion.  “We are on the right road; he’s seed ’em ur he’d a-denied it.  Let’s not lose time.”

“I’m with you,” was the reply; then to Westerfelt:  “You are right, you hain’t on the witness-stand, but ef we wanted to we could mighty easy arrest you on suspicion and march you back to jail to be questioned by the inspectors.”

Westerfelt smiled, “You’d have to feed me at the expense of the government, and I’m as hungry as a bear; I’ve been out all day, and haven’t had a bite since breakfast.”

The revenue men laughed.  “We know who you are,” said the one that had spoken first, “an’ we know our business, too; so long!”

Two hours later, as Westerfelt was about to go to bed in his room over the stable, he heard a voice calling down-stairs.  He went to the window and looked out.  Below he saw four men, two saddle horses, and a horse and wagon.  He heard Washburn open the office door and ask: 

“What do you folks want?”

“Want to put up our beasts an’ this hoss an’ wagon,” was the reply.  “We’ve got some gentlemen heer we’re gwine to jail till mornin’.”

“All right.  I’ll slide open the doors as soon as I git my shoes on.  I wus in bed.”

“We’ll have to leave these barrels o’ rotgut with you.”

“All right.  Plenty o’ room.”  Westerfelt came down-stairs just as Washburn opened the big doors.