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

"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."

"Slightly."

"Clifton?"

"What's the name, General, of the man whose house I'm to go to?"

I attempted an evasion. "Oh--a blanket on the ground--face covered up in it from the mosquitos--is really--"

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