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The General looked at me between puffs of his cigar. "I hear you've ridden over fifty miles to-day."

Rills of perspiration tickled my back like flies. "Can't one man do the work?"

"And so here you are in this awful fix."

"Yes," I said, and handed her, as I dismounted, the General's gift, the pass.

I stepped back, heaving. "Who and what are you? Who and what are you?"

I waved a pleasant refusal and rode toward the house.

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