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No, I barely remembered the rider had generously moved aside to let me go by. In pure sourness at the poverty of my dress and the perfection of his, I had avoided looking at him higher than his hundred-dollar boots. My feet were in uncolored cowhide, except the toes.

"And a suit of unie-fawm!" called Cécile, with her Creole accent.

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Gholson, in the Adjutant-general's tent, told me Ned Ferry had named me to the General as a first-class horseman and the most insignificant- looking person he knew of who was fit for this venture.

I stepped back, heaving. "Who and what are you? Who and what are you?"

"Oh, I don't doubt you have; though I didn't know but it might be Charlie Toliver or something."

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