The post. [volume] (Middleburg, Snyder County, Pa.) 1864-1883, 1881-06-23

managed 10 put US off the track be.
fore we traced them to their lair. IL
would be "big thing" for me II
unearthed their den aud I felt that
the chief paid me high compliment
selecting me, and me alone. to do
the job. fastened to my lodgings,
and quickly but carefully "made
myself up as well-to-do farmer.
"My reputation is at stake" NUT
tered to myself, as I strodo toward
the depot, "and by Jove, I'm bound
not too lose it,"
thought it very probable that
should have long wait for my man,
but in thisI was agroeably disap-
pointed, for, on arriving at the de-
pot almost the first man beheld
was Slippery Sam. He had just en-
tered and was making his way to.
ward the ticket Office. 1 followed
him, and saw that he bought ticks
ct for Watkins Junction. o small
village about fifty miles ont.
purchased ticket for the same
place and followed Wolfe into the
car, just as the train started
Throughout the journey kept him
i'll sight. He glanced at me several
times but showed no signs OF res
cognition, and I was confident that
my disguise was perfect. Sam and
1 had met more than once in the
course OF my professional care or. 80
| had been more than usually care-
ful in my make up," aud was GER
tain that it was effective. In some.
thing less than two hours the train
reached Watkins Junction, aud
several passengers alighted, among
them Sam Wolfe and myself The
counterfeiter started up tho roal.
and 1 stepped up to the depot mas
ter and asked Z:
Can you tell mo who that man
is ?" pointing to Wolfe.
Il don't know his name," was the
reply, "but, his face is familiar
enough. He Stops up at Rorke's
place."
"And where and what is Rorke's
place ?" asked.
You're stranger in these parts
or you wouldn't ask that" said the
depot master. "Rorke's place is
public house about mile up the
road, kept by one Jim Rorke-
though how be manages to keep it
going don't know, for everyb, dy
in these parts steers clear ofit-tbey
know him too WE'LL
His reputation is not good, ell ?"
! asked.
"He's a d ID rascal" said tho do.
pot master, "thats what he is."
Having ascertained the exact loca-
ton of the public house in q uestion.
started up the road, do termined to
make sure that l had really found
the counterfeiter's headquarters. 1t
was eight o'clock and very dark
when pausedin trout OF misser-
able looking hovel, over the door of
which was written the name James
Rorke. From the inside 1 heard
sounds OF revelry, and glaucing into
the half open window saw four men
standing beside bar drinking.
Sam. Wolfe was not among them,
but ] doubted not that had discov.
cred the headquarters OF the gang.
Now nothing remained to do but to
procure assistance and make q des-
cent on the place and was about
turning away with the intention OF
doing this when was seized from
behind, thrown to the ground and
in twinkling bound hand and foot.
"Aha !" cried the voice OF Sam
Wolfe. "You will follow me from
the city, eh, you cursed spy Fool
did you think I didn't know you
from the firsti'
He lifted me into his arms and
bore me into the room.
"Here's spy, boys" he cried, let's
take him. down stairs and decide
what to do with him. An ordinary
death will not do for d--d police
spy and l have an idea to suggest
on this point"
I was carried through q long
winding hallway and down a fight
Of steps.
"Strike light" ordered Wolfe.
His command was obeyed, aud a
moment later | saw I was 10 the
cellar Of the building and in the
counterfeiter's den. Apparatus for
the manufacture of spurious money