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"Who?" I cried. "What! You don't mean to say--was that Lieutenant Ferry?"

At the door the Colonel gave me a last look. "Good-night, Legs."

"Ned Ferry! What does Ned Ferry know about my fitness?"

"She must have pumped others before she pumped you, eh?" There was confession in his good humor. "But tell me; did she not see also this other trap, for this man and his father, and try to save them out of it?--oh, if you don't want--never mind." He laid a leg over the front of his saddle and sat thinking. So I see him to-day: his chestnut locks, his goodly limbs and shoulders, the graceful boots, cut-away jacket, faded sash, straight sword, and that look of care on his features which intensified the charm of their spiritual cleanness; behind him his band of picked heroes, and for background the June sky. Whenever I smell dewy corn-fields smitten with the sun that picture comes back to me.

"That," I replied, "is a very different matter! At least I had hoped it was!"

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