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almost pleasing. "Good-bye, Smith, remember your failings."

"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

"And a suit of unie-fawm!" called Cécile, with her Creole accent.

He spurted a pint to reply, "Fishe's batt'ry."

I sat by the window, capped, booted, belted, my bridle in one hand, revolver in the other. In all the house, now, there was no sound, and without there was a stillness only more vast. I could not tell whether certain sensations in my ear were given by insects in the grass and trees or merely by my overwrought nerves and tired neck. The moon sailed high, the air was at last comfortably cool, my horse stood and slept. I thought it must be half-past two.

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