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I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

"That will do. Now, beyond Fayette, about seven miles north, there's a place--"

Foolish, idle cry, and meant for no more, by a heart on fire with temptations of which I knew nothing. But then and there my poor adolescent soul found out that the preceptive stuff of which it had built its treasure-house and citadel was not fire-proof.

"Cruel to you?" I took her hand from my arm and held it.

"Of course no one has seen this despatch, eh?--Oh!"--a smile--"yes? who?"

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