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"Are you not a New Orleans boy?" she asked as I lifted my képi and drew rein.

"Nor no woman?" I asked, and again across the back of my neck my two companions gazed at each other.

"Ned Ferry! What does Ned Ferry know about my fitness?"

"I don't believe you! I don't believe you ever had cause for one!" She laid a hand again upon mine.

"Lieutenant, she guessed! She must have just put two and two together and guessed! Or else, Lieutenant,--"

"She must have pumped others before she pumped you, eh?" There was confession in his good humor. "But tell me; did she not see also this other trap, for this man and his father, and try to save them out of it?--oh, if you don't want--never mind." He laid a leg over the front of his saddle and sat thinking. So I see him to-day: his chestnut locks, his goodly limbs and shoulders, the graceful boots, cut-away jacket, faded sash, straight sword, and that look of care on his features which intensified the charm of their spiritual cleanness; behind him his band of picked heroes, and for background the June sky. Whenever I smell dewy corn-fields smitten with the sun that picture comes back to me.

"No, except that it was through--"

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