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

"We shall have to get Ned Ferry back here," the Major was saying as I entered, "to make you boys let Scott Gholson alone."

"Doesn't a good story revive the poetry of our actual lives?" He wiped the rim of his cap with a handkerchief of yellow silk enriched at one corner with needlework.

Gholson, in the Adjutant-general's tent, told me Ned Ferry had named me to the General as a first-class horseman and the most insignificant- looking person he knew of who was fit for this venture.

"My dear Smith," said Miss Rothvelt, "keep your trust. But if I part here with these two kind gentlemen--"

I said with genuine warmth that if he would give me that man's name--etc.

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