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"Why, I suppose I'm to find there a road down Cole's Creek to Clifton."

I thought I did until I glanced at the superscription: Miss Coralie Rothvelt.

The night was still and sultry. At one of the many camp-fires on the edge of the road I saw the Arkansas colonel sitting cross-legged on the ground, in trousers, socks and undershirt, playing poker.

She came without her horse, pointing eagerly at the brightness of the sky above the unrisen moon. "Diana!" she whispered, and tossed a kiss toward it. "You saw me put the mare into the stable and go into the house by the back door?"

At length he lost all prudence. "Nn--o!--Nnno--o, sir! Not in this house you don't; and not on this place! Wait till he's off my land; I'm not goin' to have the infernal rebels a-turpentinin' my house and a-burnin' it over my head. What air you three skunks in such a sweat to git found out for, like a pack o' daymn' fools! I've swone to heaven and hell to git even ef revenge can ever git me even, and this ain't the way to git even. It's not--our--wa-ay!"

I could not speak, I shook my head, and for evidence in rebuttal I showed in my eyes two fountains of standing tears.

He shook his head bitterly. "Oh, well, then, of course I know. How am I to help you to help him; help him to do what?"

"Yes," I interrupted, beginning to boil.

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