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

"Oh, sir," cried Estelle, whose eyes, brows, lashes and hair were all of the same luminous red-brown, and in whose cheeks the rose seemed always to burn through the olive, "how can you and your people seek to kill such men as that?"

"General Austin believes it is. You're being used to bait a trap, Richard."

"My God! she shall not!" I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.

He let me ponder the fact a long time. "Lieutenant," I asked at length, "did you know your plot against the two Olivers would cross her wishes?"

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