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

"Yes, so called. He wa'n't a lieutenant then, he was a clerk, like you or me."

I found but one white figure under the dim veranda eaves. "Miss Camille?"

So! I honestly wished myself back in my old rags, until I reflected that my handsome mount was enough to get me all the damage these wretches could offer. Still I thought it safest to show an overbearing frown.

"Good-morning, Smith, who is your prisoner?"

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