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

"Guess I'm the first Yankee y' ever caught, ain't I?" His smile was superior, but congratulatory.

"To what command do you belong?" he asked.

My whole nature was upheaved. You may smile, but my plight was awful. In the sultry night I grew cold. My bridle-hand, still lying under her palm, turned and folded its big stupid fingers over hers. Then our hands slid apart and we rode back. "I wish I were good enough to know the stars," she said, gazing up. "Tell me some of them."

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

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