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"I give you my word I don't know!" called I as the distance grew between us. "And I give you my word I don't care!" he crowed back as we galloped apart. His speech was two or three words longer, but they are inappropriate at the end of a chapter, and I expurgate.

A sweet color was I. "Yes, that's what I said; Cockerel. Isn't your last name Cockerel?"

"No," he said, "my last name is Durand." He gave it the French pronunciation.

"Hold your tongue!" I barked my wrath like a frightened puppy, drawing back a stride and laying my eye closer along the pistol. "If you call me your son again I'll send you to your fathers."

"Halt!" We halted. "About face!" As the prisoner eyed me both of us listened. His equanimity was almost winsome, and I saw that friendliness was going to be his tactics.

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At the door the Colonel gave me a last look. "Good-night, Legs."

"No."

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