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Hmm! yes! I wouldn't have got off my horse and leaned over that box to save the Confederacy. "I thank you, Lieutenant, but I can't stop. If you'll hand me up a jacket and pair of shoes I'll sign for them and go. I don't want a hat, but I reckon I'd as well include shoes, although really,--" I glanced down brazenly at the stirrup-leathers that so snugly hid my naked toes.

"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

"No, not so easy; but those fellows are Arkansans, and they're in a bad humor with me."

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Whereat Cécile replied, "Ah--well! we cou'n' like you the leaz bit any-'ow."

Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

"Read the address on your despatch," said Gholson, resuming his pen.

He admitted that by the true religionist's standard it was not honest, but reminded me that Ned Ferry--in his blindness--was only a poor romanticist. The despatch was addressed to Lieutenant Edgard Ferry-Durand.

"Oh--I--just don't feel as if I could, that's all."

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