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

I surrender, he said, with amiable ease.

"That's a lie," he pleasantly remarked, and lay back, enjoying my silent wrath. "Send him, General," he added, "he's your man."

"Good-evening," replied the nearer man. "How far is it to camp--Austin's?"

"Yes," I said, and handed her, as I dismounted, the General's gift, the pass.

He lighted up with happy relief. "No, you need not make it. And you need not turn so pale." Whereat I turned red. "She saw the despatch was a trap for the Yankees, and used it so, you think? Ah, yes, Smith, I see it all, now; she pumped you dry."

He laughed. "Oh!--a little strength, a little vanity,--pride--self-love--we have to use them all--as a good politician uses men."

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