—in the Secret Service. Leave it to me. Take care of your money till I return."
Out goes Rugg, and overhauls old Sam, down the road same distance.
The old man has just come out of the country store near by, where he had made the proprietor a similar visit.
"My darter," said Sam, "wants me to bring her three yards o' blue cambric, if yer've got good cambric."
"Yes, we have," says the storekeeper.
"How much is it?" asks Sam.
"Sixty cents, sir."
"Ain't that a leetle high for it?"
"No. Cheap as a broom."
"Well, ef you say so—all right."
And he hands him a bogus $10 National note, and leaves with the "cambric for his darter," and nine dollars and forty cents in good money.
Mr. Simon Bugg has so changed his dress, beard, hat, and general appearance, that Lame Sam don't know him "from four and sixpence!" And besides, the young man who now suddenly approaches him, is certainly a little the worse for liquor. He has plainly been indulging in more than one draught of "Jersey Lightning," as Sam observes.
"What's up?" queries Bugg, as he tumbles upon the old fellow, pretending to be slightly drunk. "How ar' ye—ole chap, 'ic? W'are yer goin'?"
Lame Sam halts. They sit down by the roadside, and chaff a little. Simon Bugg asks the old gent what he's got in his bundle, and learns where he just purchased the cambric. Sam points him back to the store—for Rugg "wants to get some cotton and thread for his old 'oman, and is a stranger there." Then he takes out a good $10 note and induces the old fellow to break it for him. Old Sam sees
