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I said one might respect religion even if he did not--

"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

Turn away thine eyes, maiden passing fair. O maiden passing fair, turn away thine eyes!

I failed to catch her reply. She spoke in a tone of pain and sunk her face in her hand. "Head ache?" I asked. "No." She straightened, and from under her coquettish hat bent upon me such a look as I had never seen. In her eyes, in her tightened lips, and in the lift of her head, was a whole history of hope, pride, pain, resolve, strife, bafflement and defiance. She could not have chosen to betray so much; she must have counted too fully on the shade of her hat-brim. The beautiful frown relaxed into a smile. "No," she repeated, "only an aching conscience. Ever have one?"

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

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

"Whose hand was it; that fellow's, yonder?" Oliver was several paces away.

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