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My thanks were few and awkward, for there still hung to the missive a basting thread, and it was as warm as a nestling bird. I bent low--everybody was emotional in those days--kissed the fragrant thing, thrust it into my bosom, and blushed worse than Camille.

The men laughed again. "You must a-been born with all your teeth," said the private, as we quickened to a trot. "What makes you think we ain't after conscripts?"

"Well, say; maybe you'll tell us who this is we're about to meet up with."

I found but one white figure under the dim veranda eaves. "Miss Camille?"

I dilated. "Who told--did Ned Ferry tell you that story?"

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