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"No," he said, "my last name is Durand." He gave it the French pronunciation.

An instant his superb eye resented, but then he pleasantly did my bidding. "Suits me well; rather chance it with you than with those I've just left."

"No," he said, but Ned Ferry had lately restored to him, by proxy, some lost letters, with an invitation to come and see him.

"I tell her as a friend," he said, "she'll get one into Fortress Monroe yet!"

The General asked me a number of idle questions and then said my prisoner had called me a good soldier. Old Dismukes smiled so broadly that I grew hot, believing the Yankee had told them of my tears.

"A short three miles."

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