he list was not a very long one, but it was not easy to fill.

Baker gave the measurements of a very cheap cotton suit and the size of
a cap with a very deep peak. He also notated a green eye-shade, a pair
of goggles, and the ingredients for making a dark brown face stain.

In addition to this he wanted a dark gray hair switch, and it was easy
to discern that his main idea was to prepare an elaborate disguise.

"All right," reported Bart, as he finished reading the list. "I'll have
the things here just as early in the morning as I can get them. I'm
going to put out the lantern, but I will then hand it over to you with
some matches. It has got a shade, and you can focus the rays so they
will not show outside. Here are a couple of magazines--I brought them
from the house."

"You're mighty kind," said the refugee. "Hold on. I want to tell you
something. Of course you think I'm acting strange. Some day, though, if
things come out right, I'll explain to you, and you will say I did just
right. There's another thing: you may think from my actions I am some
desperate character. I hope I may burn up right in this shed to-night if
I'm not telling the truth when I say to you that I never touched a
dishonored penny, never harmed a soul, never did a wrong thing
knowingly."

"I have confidence in your word, Mr. Baker," said Bart simply.

"Thank you, I'll prove I deserve it yet," declared the strange man.

There was a spell of silence. Finally Bart decided to venture a question
on a theme he was very curious about.

"Do you know Colonel Jeptha Harrington?" he asked suddenly.

"Hoo--eh?"

He had startled Baker--his incoherent mutterings persuaded Bart of
this.

"Don't you want to tell?" continued Bart. "All right, only it was you
who waved an arm at him from the freight car this afternoon, wasn't it,
now?"

"Well, yes, it was," admitted Baker in a low tone.

"And you said something to him."

"Yes, I did. See here, I heard him calling you down and threatening you,
for I slunk up to the shed here to see what he was up to. I'm interested
in him, I am, and so are others. When I got back in hiding I spoke out,
I told him something--something that made his crabbed old soul wizen up,
something that scared the daylights out of him. He had a brother, once.
He's dead, now. I said something that made this old rascal think his
brother's ghost had come back to earth to haunt him."

"How could you do that?" inquired Bart, very much