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"Who--o?" It was not one who asked; the whos came like shrapnel; and when, not knowing what else to do, I smiled as one dying, there went up a wail of mirth that froze my blood and then heated it to a fever. The company howled. They rolled over one another, crying, "Charlie Toliver!--Charlie Toliver!--Oh, Lord, where's Scott Gholson!--Charlie Toliver!"--and leaped up and huddled down and moaned and rolled and rose and looked for me.

The pair looked at each other behind my neck for full ten seconds. Then the younger man leaned to his horse's mane in a silent laugh while Sergeant Jim looked me over again and remarked that he would be horn-swoggled!

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"Some of our boys attacked by a rabbit," I suggested, but still hearkened.

"No, not so easy; but those fellows are Arkansans, and they're in a bad humor with me."

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"The horse may have to save you," drawled the Arkansan.

"I see."

"You were so anxious to get the General's letter?" I asked.

"Only to take care of you whenever I had the chance. Go, now, you must!"

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