Folorunso Fatukasi Jersey

"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

I stiffened proudly, turned and mounted my steed, but her eyes drew mine. I pressed close, bent over the saddle-bow, and said, "Good-bye, Camille."

"Good-morning," I murmured.

"Not at all, sir. I'm sorry to seem so; it's not the tip-top of courtesy,--"

"Good-morning, Smith, who is your prisoner?"

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