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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

The three of us pattered out of the stream abreast. "No trouble," replied the sergeant, "it wouldn't take half a minute."

"Mine is Smith," I said, and we galloped.

"That was not play, Mr. Smith," Miss Harper had begun to respond, when a voice across the sedge-field called with startling clearness,

"Nonsense!" muttered both men, and I liked them the better.

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