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My silence implied that I knew it, though I did not feel any brighter, happier or cleaner.

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

I thought I did until I glanced at the superscription: Miss Coralie Rothvelt.

My whole nature was upheaved. You may smile, but my plight was awful. In the sultry night I grew cold. My bridle-hand, still lying under her palm, turned and folded its big stupid fingers over hers. Then our hands slid apart and we rode back. "I wish I were good enough to know the stars," she said, gazing up. "Tell me some of them."

I attempted an evasion. "Oh--a blanket on the ground--face covered up in it from the mosquitos--is really--"

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