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Our camp was in the heart of Copiah County, Mississippi, a mile or so west of Gallatin and about six miles east of that once robber-haunted road, the Natchez Trace. Austin's brigade, we were, a detached body of mixed Louisiana and Mississippi cavalry, getting our breath again after two weeks' hard fighting of Grant. Grierson's raid had lately gone the entire length of the State, and we had had a hard, vain chase after him, also.

"That was not play, Mr. Smith," Miss Harper had begun to respond, when a voice across the sedge-field called with startling clearness,

He said the proxy was a young woman who had a knack of getting passes through the lines, and the three girls exchanged looks as knowing as they were delighted.

"I haven't been ordered to tell any one where I'm going."

"It's twenty miles off; why are you not with it? What are you doing here?"

"She air!" He was pleased. "Yass, we all good frien's togetheh."

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

"Don't move." My tone was affectionate. "Don't holla, or I'll give you to the crows. Back. Back off this bridge--quick! or I'll--" I pushed the pistol nearer; the danger was no less to him because I was thoroughly frightened. He backed; but he glared a devilish elation, for behind me beat the hoofs of both his horsemen. I had to change my tactics.

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