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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"Well, say; maybe you'll tell us who this is we're about to meet up with."

The three laughed again and the men sank their carbines across their laps, while in a voice as refined as her figure their companion said, "Good-evening, Mr. Smith." She laid back her veil and even in the darkness I felt the witchery of her glance. "I was just coming to meet you," she continued, "to get the letter you're bringing me from General Austin. I feared you might try to come around by Fayette, not knowing the Yankees are there. These gentlemen didn't know it." "She just did save us!" laughed the man hitherto silent.

I could not speak, I shook my head, and for evidence in rebuttal I showed in my eyes two fountains of standing tears.

"Yes, I know. But you don't know even how your mother is acquainted with her."

"Did Lieutenant Ferry fire?"

I said he did not. The General turned his strong eyes to Gholson's and kept them there while he took three luxurious puffs at his cigar. Then he took the waiting paper, and as he wrote his name on it he said, smiling, "I wish you had been in Lieutenant Ferry's place, Mr. Gholson; you would have done your duty."

"No, it was here, but yesterday, when the fighting threatened to be heavy, it was sent to the front. Smith, I didn't know Charlie Tolliver was here!"

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