Having discussed all the availables, from the contents of the post office--seven newspapers and four letters per quarter!--to the crackers and cheese, and business being essentially stagnated, we ups and lies down upon the top of the counter, to take a nap. Captain V----'s store was a log building, about 15 by 30, and stood near the edge of the woods, and at least half a mile from any habitation, except the schoolhouse and blacksmith's shop, two small huts, and at that time--"in coventry." Captain V---- was a bachelor; he boarded--that is, he took his meals at the nearest house--half a mile back from the wood, and slept in his store. We soon fell into the soft soothing arms of Morpheus, and--slept. It was fine mild weather--September, and, of course, the door was wide open. How long we slept we were not at all conscious, but were aroused by a heavy hand that gave us a hearty shake by the shoulder, and in a rather sepulchral voice says-- "How are you?" Gods! we were up quick, for our sleep had been visited by dreams of southwest tragedies, hanging scrapes, and other nightmare affairs, and as we opened our eyes and caught a glimpse of the double-fisted, cadaverous fellow standing over us, a strong inclination to go off into a cold sweat seized us! Lo! it was after sunset! Almost dark in the store, the stars had already began to twinkle in the sky. Captain V---- did a considerable trade at his store, and at times had considerable sums of money laying around. Upon leaving in the morning, he notified us, in case we should require _change_, to look into the desk, where he kept a shot bag of silver coin, and--his pistols. "How are you?" the words and manner and looks of the man gave us a cold chill. "How do you do?" we managed to respond, at the same time sliding down behind the counter. The stranger had a heavy walking stick in his hand, and a knapsack looking bundle swung to his shoulder. He looked like the rough remnants of an ill-spent life; had evidently travelled somewhere where barbers, washer-women and such like civilian delicacies, were more matters of tradition than fact. "Been asleep, eh?" he carelessly continued. "It appears so," said we, feeling no better or more satisfactory in our mind, and no reason to, for night was now closing in, and we were going through our performances by the slight illumination of the stars, without any positive certainty as to where the Captain kept his tinder box and candle, that we might furnish some sort of light upon the lugubrious state of affairs. "Do you keep this store?" "No, we do not," we answered, watching the man as he put his bundle down upon the counter. "Who does?" was the next question. "The gentleman who keeps it," we replied, "is away to-day." "Ah, gone to see a poor human being put out of the world, eh?"