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 for lack of proper means of transportation, when he accidentally, while looking after his own team and wagon, discovered a two-horse vehicle, considerably battered and disfigured, but surmounted by a white cloth covering, over which was a small yellow hospital flag, and upon the sides of which were painted in large letters ‘small-Pox.’ In a short time Berg had exchanged his four-horse vehicle for the smaller one, and selecting two of his best mules, hit upon the idea of transposing his hospital wagon into a blockade runner. He soon had a stock of quinine, morphine, ether and such other drugs as promised the greatest profit, stored away in a box under the yellow flag, and over these he placed several layers of leather fronts for making cotton and wool cards, over these some cheap clothing, and as a last layer scattered promiscuously a collection of such articles as are usually carried in a peddler's pack, including cambric needles. The enterprise might have been entirely successful had not Berg determined to add to his stock an eight-gallon keg of good rye whiskey, then exceedingly scarce in his native region. Berg proceeded on his journey very slowly. The roads were bad, his team weak, and he inexperienced. The yellow flag upon his wagon and the legend upon its sides accomplished fully all that he had expected from them, so far as keeping him uumolested and preventing his contraband cargo from being detected. They were equal to the ancient cry, ‘Make way for the Leper.’ Berg himself grew quite travel stained, and to ordinary observation had but recently recovered from the small-pox. The end of the fourth day found his stock of provisions, both for man and beast, entirely exhausted, while every attempt on his part to approach a farm-house in order to obtain these necessities was met with threats and the barking of dogs, and he and his teams went into a supperless camp. The next morning he concealed himself some distance from the highway, tied his mules out in a swamp to graze, and, having scrubbed himself up in a neighboring stream, started out afoot in hope of finding some farm-house remote from the highway where he might negotiate for provisions. Before starting, however, in order to fortify himself against the fatigue of the journey, Berg for the first time uncovered his hidden keg and drew off a bottle of its costly contents, drinking some of it before starting. An hour's wandering brought him at last to a farm which gave promise of creature comfort and refreshment. There was a woman in possession
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