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I clenched my teeth. "I am nineteen, madam."

The smoker twinkled. "You're different from Ned Ferry," he said.

"My dear madam, you don't realize ours. We don't want to imprison women."

Rills of perspiration tickled my back like flies. "Can't one man do the work?"

"The enemy are in Fayette to-night," he continued. "So when you get half-way to Fayette, just across Morgan's Creek, you'll take a dim fork on the right running north along the creek. Ever travel by the stars?"

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