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when, just as our last note died among the trees one of us cried, "Listen!" and through the stillness there came from far away on our right the last three measures of a bugle sounding The March.

"What do you see?" His frown scared me to my finger-tips.

"Lieutenant Ferry is not sending me to any house."

At the edge of the wood, where we had parted, I tied my horse, and crept along the moonlight shadows of the melon-patch to the stable. The door was ajar. In the interior gloom I passed my hands over the necks and heads of what I recognized to be the pair of small mules I had seen at Gallatin. Near a third stall were pegs for saddle and bridle, but they were empty. So was the stall; the mare was gone.

"She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh."

"Why, the other one--the son. Lieutenant, is she that monster's wife?"

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