"You have?" said Si suspiciously. "Why didn't you ride right in and tell it to him? What've you21 bin hangin' around here all afternoon, watchin' our post for?" "I wasn't sure you was there. I was told that the Yankee pickets was going to be pushed out to Cripple Deer Creek to-day, but I didn't know it for sure. I was afraid that the rebels was there yet. Jim Jones, of the secret service, had agreed to come out this afternoon and wave a flag if it was all22 right. I was waiting for his sign. But he is probably drunk. He always gets so when he reaches camp." The Deacon joined them in the road, and gave a searching glance at the prisoner. "Ain't you a Jew?" he inquired presently. "Ain't your name Rosenbaum? Didn't you go through Posey County, Ind., a year or two ago, with a wagon, sellin' packs o' cloth to the farmers?" "I'm an American citizen," said the man proudly, "the same as the rest of you. My religion is Hebrew. I don't know and don't care what your religion is. Every man has the religion that suits him. My name is Rosenbaum. I did sell cloth in Posey County, unt all over Indianny. It was good cloth, too, unt I sold it at a bargain." "It certainly was good cloth, and cheap," admitted the Deacon. "What in the world are you doin' down here in them clothes?" "I'm doing just what these men are doing here in their cloze," answered Rosenbaum. "I'm trying to serve the country. I'm doing it different from them, because I'm built different from them. I hope I'm doing it well. But I'm awfully hungry. Got anything to eat? Just a cup of coffee and a cracker? Don't care for any pork." "Yes, we'll give you something to eat," said Shorty. "I think there's some of our chicken left. You'll find that good." "How did you cook that?" said Rosenbaum, looking at the tempting morsel suspiciously. Shorty explained.23 "Thanks; I can't eat it," said Rosenbaum with a sigh. "It ain't kosher." "What the devil's that?" asked Shorty. "It's my religion. I can't explain. Send for the Officer of the Guard to take me to Headquarters," answered Rosenbaum, sipping his coffee. CHAPTER II. ROSENBAUM, THE SPY THE JEW TELLS THE THRILLING STORY OF HIS ADVENTURE. THE Officer of the Guard was a long time in coming, and Mr. Rosenbaum grew quite chatty and communicative, as they sat around the bright fire of cedar logs and smoked. "Yes," he said, "I have been in the secret service ever since the beginning of the war—in fact, before the war, for I began getting news for Frank Blair in the Winter before the war. They say Jews have no patriotism. That's a lie. Why should they have no patriotism for countries where they were treated like dogs? In Germany, where I was born, they treated us worse than dogs. They made us live in a little, nasty, pig-pen of an alley; we had to go in at sundown, unt stay there; we had to wear a different cloze from other folks, unt we didn't dare to say our souls were our own to any dirty loafer that insulted us.