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"Then Ned Ferry doesn't drink?"

"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."

"Too warm?"

"She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh."

The thunder of our own hoofs Was all the sound we heard.

Ferry showed pain. "I know; save that for the General. And what else?"

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