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"Borrowed!" echoed the sergeant. "If he doesn't own that mare no man does."

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

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The three laughed again and the men sank their carbines across their laps, while in a voice as refined as her figure their companion said, "Good-evening, Mr. Smith." She laid back her veil and even in the darkness I felt the witchery of her glance. "I was just coming to meet you," she continued, "to get the letter you're bringing me from General Austin. I feared you might try to come around by Fayette, not knowing the Yankees are there. These gentlemen didn't know it." "She just did save us!" laughed the man hitherto silent.

"He told you?--Ah! you're only guessing," I said, and saw that I was helping her to guess more correctly.

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