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

"Papa tells us you are being sent off on courier duty to-night. What a heart-breaking thing is war! How full of cruel sepa'--"

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

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "To whom are you pledged for any such--"

He spurted a pint to reply, "Fishe's batt'ry."

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