That will be a pretty good joke to tell father.
But I wonder who is offering a reward for me as plain every-day Winn
Caspar, besides the one that would be paid for the young counterfeiter
who ran off with the Sheriff's boat?"
This is what Winn thought. What he said was, "My! but that is a lot of
money! Wouldn't it be fine if we could earn those twelve hundred
dollars?"
"Indeed it would," answered the old man. "Even one of the smaller
rewards would buy us a mule."
"Who is offering them?" asked Winn.
"The Government offers the first, Sheriff Riley the second, and the
third is offered by some one named Brickell. 'W. Brickell,' the bills
are signed. I saw them up at the printing-office, but they are being
distributed all over the place."
Sure enough, in that wretched little printing-office the compositor had
made "Brickell" out of Brackett, and as he was his own proof-reader,
the mistake was not discovered.
"Brickell," repeated Winn, slowly. "That is a queer name, and one that
I never heard before."
"Yes, it is one that has puzzled me a good deal," said Cap'n Cod. "I'm
sure I never heard Major Caspar mention any such person."
"You know this Major Caspar, then?"
"Know him! Well, I should say I did. We were in the same regiment all
through the war, and a better officer never commanded men.
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