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

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"Don't you know?" I asked.

"My God! she shall not!" I cried, and whirled about and galloped back.

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