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"Nor no woman?" I asked, and again across the back of my neck my two companions gazed at each other.

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

"Deserters, I don't doubt!" was my comment to the ladies. Tongue revenge is poor, but it is something.

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"Smith," said the Colonel, and then smoked and smiled again till my brow beaded,--"tired?"

I said with genuine warmth that if he would give me that man's name--etc.

I stood equally amazed and alert. The voices still growled in the next room, and my horse's bridle still hung before the window. I peered out; there stood the priceless beast. I came a sly step nearer, and lo! in his shadow, flattened against the house, face outward, was Coralie Rothvelt comically holding the forked stick at a present-arms. Throbbing with a grateful, craving allegiance, I seized the rein. Then I bent low out the window and with my free hand touched her face as it turned upward into a beam of moonlight. She pressed my fingers to her lips, and then let me draw her hand as far as it could come and cover it with kisses. Then she drew me down and whispered "You'll do what I've asked?"

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