"Don't you know?" said Mike, suspiciously.
"No, I don't!"
"Didn't you ever hear of black murrain?"
"Yes," was the terrified reply.
"Well, that's it—all sheep up the river's got it dreadful—dyin' like rotten dogs, hundreds daily."
"You don't tell!" cried the victim; "and what's the cure?"
"Nothin' but killin' 'em to prevent it's spreadin'; it's dreadful catchin', is black murrain."
The riverman was at once begged to kill the infected sheep and throw their bodies into the current of the river. Mike did not at once agree, but when a couple of gallons of peach brandy was named as a consideration, he consented. And that night as his boat left the cove its freight was increased by many pounds of mutton and something less than two gallons of peach brandy. The same story is told of other bargemen in various portions of the Union but, whoever was guilty of the theft, it is typical of all so far as their attitude to the public is concerned.
