Wondering if he could escape to the next street before the alarm was given in that neighborhood, the young Union soldier slipped down the stairs and entered the store, which he found filled with a miscellaneous collection of articles, including clothing, firearms, jewelry, crockery and woodenware, and farming implements. There was a counter near by and on this lay some business cards showing the place belonged to one Simon Davidstein. As Louis was advancing towards the front door he heard several men come up to it from the other side, and then a key was inserted in the lock and the door was thrown back. Louis had barely time to secrete himself behind a counter when three men entered. “It vos lucky you vos found me at der hotel,” said one of the newcomers, in a high-pitched German voice. “I ain’t dare all der dime, no more.” “If we hadn’t found you, Davidstein, you’d ’a’ lost a good bargain,” came the reply, in a voice which sounded strangely familiar to Louis. At the risk of being discovered he peered out from his hiding place and saw that the man who had spoken was Caleb Fox! With him was Sam Jacks, while the third party was the owner of the establishment. Louis was both astonished and mystified. What had brought Fox and Jacks to that place at this hour of the night? Fox carried a heavy flour-sack and the mission of the two thieving guerrillas was soon explained. “We’ve got a fine collection of watches and jewelry fer ye this trip, Davidstein,” said Sam Jacks. “Must be at least five hundred dollars’ worth in the bag.” “Fife hundred dollars--in dese dimes!” cried Davidstein. “You must pe crazy! Of you dinks I gif fife hundred dollars you ton’t petter open der pag at all, ain’t it. Maybe you vos mean baber money?” he added suddenly. “No, we ain’t takin’ nothin’ but gold,” said Caleb Fox. “Just you look at the rings and watches, and we’ve got a fine pin or two; ain’t thet so, Sam?” “Best Davidstein ever saw,” joined in the second guerrilla. “I ton’t vos got no fife hundred in gold to bay out dis night,” said Davidstein, stoutly. “Well, you handle the stuff an’ make an offer,” concluded Caleb Fox. “Remember, we have got to divide with the rest o’ the boys.” The trio moved to the center of the store, and here the single light that was burning was turned up. At the same time there was a clatter from the rear and a sleepy but somewhat excited young Jew appeared, pistol in hand. “I dink it dime you voke up, Jacob,” cried Davidstein, sarcastically. “Der mop could rob der blace und you schleep on like von rock, hey?” “I heard you come in,” was the abashed answer. “I vos listening py der shudders on der pack window. Dere vos droubles py der brison, I dink.” “Dot ain’t our bees’ness, so long dey ton’t come here,” concluded Davidstein. “You can lay down again,” and Jacob retreated to his cot behind a pile of packing boxes.