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"Would I not tell my dream, as nice young men in the Bible always did?"

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.

"Suppose it wasn't either."

There was a hush of attention among them as the lieutenant and I saluted. His left hand was gone at the wrist and the sleeve pinned back on itself. He asked my name; I told him. In the car there was a stir of deepening interest. I inquired if he was the post-quartermaster here. He was.

"Yes." She stooped low under the interlacing boughs and plunged with me into the double darkness.

"Yes,"--she put away gaiety--"your orders are plain; and they're as cruel as they are plain!"

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