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But, after all, fortune was merciful, and I was gone; the Major had summoned me--his brother had come. I went circuitously and alone. As I started, some fellow writhing on the grass cried, "Charlie Tol--oh, this is better than a tcharade!" and a flash of divination enlightened me. While I went I burned with shame, rage and nervous exhaustion; the name Scott Gholson had gasped in my ear was the name of her in the curtained wagon, and I cursed the day in which I had heard of Charlotte Oliver.

"What's the name, General, of the man whose house I'm to go to?"

"Good-bye,--Dick."

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

"Halt! Turn as I turn, and keep your eye on this."

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