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"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

when, just as our last note died among the trees one of us cried, "Listen!" and through the stillness there came from far away on our right the last three measures of a bugle sounding The March.

I prompted Camille to ask if he had ever encountered Ned Ferry, and he laughed.

"Who don't belong to Ferry's scouts at all," I still more sweetly added.

"He told you?--Ah! you're only guessing," I said, and saw that I was helping her to guess more correctly.

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