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

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Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

"Mis-ter Smith! you wrote that?--to-day! Wh'--who is she?"

All I got by looking then was a mellow laugh from behind her relowered veil; but we were going at a swift trot, nearing a roadside fire of fence-rails left by some belated foraging team, and as she came into the glare of it I turned my eyes a second time. She was revealed in a garb of brown enriched by the red beams of the fire, and was on the gray mare I had seen that morning under Lieutenant Edgard Ferry-Durand.

"Uv co'se!" The reptile giggled, squirted and nodded.

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