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"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

"Thank you, I couldn't let you take so much trouble--or risk."

when, just as our last note died among the trees one of us cried, "Listen!" and through the stillness there came from far away on our right the last three measures of a bugle sounding The March.

"You can do as you're told; understand?" I understood.

I laughed a gay disdain. "Who is Lucius; is he Charlotte's husband?"

"And was care for me your only motive in--"

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

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