The neighbors began gathering in fathers, mothers and sisters of members of Co. Q, all full of eager questions as to their kindred, and this relieved Shorty, for he could tell them quite as well as Si. The supper ended, the problem of the money in the gun again loomed up. Everyone had an opinion as to how to extricate the valuable charge. The women, of course, suggested hair-pins, but these were tried without success. A gimlet taken from its handle and secured to the ramrod, refused to take hold. Somebody suggested shooting the gun across a pond of water, and getting the money that way, but it was decided that the force of the Springfield seemed too great for any body of water in the neighborhood. Then Jabe Clemmons, the "speculative" genius of the neighborhood, spoke up: "Gentlemen, I've an idee. Deacon, how much is in that small haystack of your'n?" "'Bout 10 tons," answered the Deacon. "Jest about. Well, I'll pay you the regular market price for it, and give $100 to Miss Trelawney. Now, let this gentleman stand 50 feet from it and shoot his gun at it. He mustn't tell none of us where he aims at. I'll sell you, gentlemen, that hay in 40 quarter-ton lots, commencing at the top, each man to pay $2 besides the regular price for a quarter ton o' hay, an' we'll draw numbers as to our turns in takin' the fodder." "Looks somethin' like gamblin'," demurred the Deacon. "No more'n church lotteries," answered Jabe, "since it's for a good purpose. Now, gentlemen, who wants to buy a quarter ton of Deacon Klegg's first-class hay?" At once he had replies enough to take the whole stack, but while he was writing down the names Deacon Klegg had another idea. "I can't quite git my mind reconciled to gamblin', even for a good purpose," he said. "And I ain't sure about how the two 50's 'll strike the haystack. It'd be a sin if they were destroyed, as they are likely to be. I've another idee. My well there is 25 foot deep. Let's take the bucket out, and let Shorty shoot his gun straight down into the well. I believe the money'll come out all right. If it don't I'll make it up myself, rather than be a party to a gamble." "May blow the bottom o' your old well out," muttered Jabe Clemmons, who dearly loved anything in the shape of a game of hazard. "I'll resk that," said the Deacon. "I kin dig an other well, if necessary." The Deacon's proposal was carried. Shorty, holding the butt of his gun carefully upright, fired down into the well. A boy was lowered in the bucket, and soon announced by a joyful cry that he had gotten the bills. Upon being brought up and examined they were found to be uninjured, ex cept by a slight singeing at the edges. "Providence's agin managin' things," murmured Shorty gratefully; "but the Deacon's gumption helped out." All the money for those not present to receive it in person was turned over to the Deacon, and then for the first time the boys felt relieved of a great responsibility.