The dripping Captain and his reeking steed cut a dolorous figure, as they traversed the woods. It was rather late in the season to make the hydropathic treatment they had so lately undergone agreeable; and the departure of the Captain from Dadeville had been too unexpected and hurried to allow the slightest opportunity for filling his quart tickler. “Wonder,” said he to himself, “if I won’t take a fit afore I git any more—or else have a whole carryvan of blue-nose monkeys and forky-tail snakes after me—and so get a sight of the menajerie ’thout payin’ the fust red cent. Git up, you lazy Injun!” With the last words, Simon vigorously drove his heels against Button’s sides, and in a half hour had regained the road. Scarcely had Captain Suggs trotted a hundred yards, when the sound of horses’ feet behind him caused him to look back. It was the Sheriff. “Hello! Sheriff! stop!” said Suggs. The Sheriff drew up his horse. “I’ve got a proposition to make to you; you can go home with me, and _thar_ I can give bond.” “Very well,” said the Sheriff. “But hands off till we git thar, and you ride fifty steps ahead of me, for fear of accidents—that’s the proposition.” “Agreed!” “Not so fast,” said Suggs, “thar’s a condition.” “What’s that?” “Have you got any liquor along?” The Sheriff pulled out a black bottle by way of reply. “Now,” said Captain Suggs, “do you put the bottle on that stump thar, and ride out from the road fifty yards, and when I git it, take your position in front.” These manœuvres were performed with much accuracy, and the parties being ready, and the Captain one drink ahead: “For—rard, march!” said Suggs. In this order, the Sheriff and Captain wended their way, until they arrived at the crossing of Eagle Creek, a stream having a miry swamp on each side. As his pony was drinking, an idea popped into the Captain’s head which was immediately acted upon. He suddenly turned his pony’s head down stream, and in half a minute was out of sight. “Come, Button,” said he, “let’s hunt wild-cats a spell!” The Sheriff, almost as soon as he missed our hero, heard him splashing down the creek. He plunged into the swamp, with the intention of heading him, but the mud was so soft that after floundering about a little while, he gave it up, and returned to the road, cursing as much for the loss of his black bottle, as of the Captain. “Hello, Ellis!” shouted Suggs. “Hello, yourself!” “Don’t you try that swamp no more; it’ll mire butterflies, in spots!” “No danger!” was the response. “And don’t you try to follow me, on that tall horse, down the run of this creek; if you do, you’ll have both eyes hangin’ on bamboo briers in goin’ a hundred yards—besides, _moccasin time ain’t over yet_, and thar’s lots of ’em about these old logs!” “Take care of yourself, you old thief!” said the irritated officer. “Once again, Ellis, old fellow!” said Suggs, coaxingly. “What do you want?”