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"Deserters, I don't doubt!" was my comment to the ladies. Tongue revenge is poor, but it is something.

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"Maiden passing fair, turn away thine eyes! Turn away thine eyes ere my bosom burn,

"Mis-ter Smith! you wrote that?--to-day! Wh'--who is she?"

"I'm Miss Coralie Rothvelt," she added, and then how she sparkled in the dark as she said, "I see you remember me."

"Pooh!" she replied, ever so prettily, "do you suppose I don't know? Ferry's scouts are at Clifton, and you've got a despatch for Lieutenant--eh,--Durand--hem!" She posed playfully. "Now, tell me; you're not to report to him till daylight, are you? Then why need you hurry on now? This house where I am is the only safe place for you to sleep in between here and Clifton. I'll wake you, myself, in good time." My heart pounded and rose in my throat, yet I managed to say, "My orders are plain." I flinched visibly, for again I had told too much. I pretended to listen toward the depths of the wood.

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