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"Well,--yes,--he--he is,--with some."

"Well, that might depend on who 'her' is." We had reached the cross-roads and he was turning south.

"Prisoners making a break!" I forgot all my tatters and stood on tiptoe in the stirrups to overpeer the fence-row. The next instant--"Sh--sh!" said I and slid to the ground. "Hold this bridle!" I gave it to Camille. "Don't one of you make a sound or a motion; there's a Yankee coming across this field in the little gully just behind us."

The man who had got me into this thing--this barrel--lifted the tent-flap. "Mr. Gholson," said the General, "write an order assigning Smith to Ferry's scouts."

"Don't you know?" I asked.

"Is it so dangerous?"

"Why, the other one--the son. Lieutenant, is she that monster's wife?"

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