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"Poor boy!" said the aunt. "It's the first line you've had for months. Your sweet mother wrote, but her letters were all intercepted, and the last time she was warned that next time she'd be dealt with according to military usage! I'm glad we could give you this one at once. We can't give you the uniform, for we--why, girls, what--why, what nonsense!"

"No," I rejoined, "the first step would be the last."

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

I found but one white figure under the dim veranda eaves. "Miss Camille?"

"Can't we make them think our men are here?" I suggested. "Couldn't I go back to where this fence crosses the gully and let them see me opening a gap in it?"

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