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As the rider wheeled away I blurted out with anxious loudness in the general hubbub, "Isn't his brother with him?"

"I give you my word I don't know!" called I as the distance grew between us. "And I give you my word I don't care!" he crowed back as we galloped apart. His speech was two or three words longer, but they are inappropriate at the end of a chapter, and I expurgate.

"Yes, General." "If I give you a good fresh horse can you go twenty-three miles more by midnight?"

"A short three miles."

"I'm enjoying one advantage," she replied, "which you do not."

"Oh!--don't you wish you knew! Why, to myself, for instance. Come! duty calls."

She struck a mock-sentimental attitude and murmured musically--

"Yes,"--she put away gaiety--"your orders are plain; and they're as cruel as they are plain!"

At the edge of the wood, where we had parted, I tied my horse, and crept along the moonlight shadows of the melon-patch to the stable. The door was ajar. In the interior gloom I passed my hands over the necks and heads of what I recognized to be the pair of small mules I had seen at Gallatin. Near a third stall were pegs for saddle and bridle, but they were empty. So was the stall; the mare was gone.

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