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"And a suit of unie-fawm!" called Cécile, with her Creole accent.

The man who had got me into this thing--this barrel--lifted the tent-flap. "Mr. Gholson," said the General, "write an order assigning Smith to Ferry's scouts."

"Oh! that-a-way."

"My mother! Do you know my mother?"

"I don't believe," said I, "I'd better put myself on the old gentleman when the mistress of the house is away."

I halted; not making a point of valor or discretion, but because he was Charlotte Oliver's husband. I read his purpose and listened behind me as we parleyed. "Don't halt me, sir, I'm a courier and in a hurry."

He hiccoughed. "Let's--s'--see y' orders."

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