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"I'm willing," I responded, and we all laughed. The younger horseman asked my name. "Smith," I said, with dignity, and they laughed again, their laugh growing louder when I would not smile.

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

"I think you know Lieutenant Durand?" asked the General, with a quizzical eye.

"Don't interrupt me, Smith. Yes, Clifton. You're not to reach there to-night--"

He admitted that by the true religionist's standard it was not honest, but reminded me that Ned Ferry--in his blindness--was only a poor romanticist. The despatch was addressed to Lieutenant Edgard Ferry-Durand.

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