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"Ain't you Major Harper's quartermaster-sergeant?" he asked.

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

"I see."

Thence he pointed out a distant sycamore looming high against the soft dawn. There was the fence-corner at which the bridle-path left the road. He icily declined pay for my lodging. "We never charge a Confederate soldier for anything; that's not our way."

"Two Federal officers."

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