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"Well, no. It's the horse he captured the time he got the Yankee who had him prisoner."

"Cockerel, did you say?"

We listened again. "They've gone the wrong way," I said, still savage.

Turn again thine eyes, maiden passing fair. O maiden passing fair, turn again thine eyes!"

I sat by the window, capped, booted, belted, my bridle in one hand, revolver in the other. In all the house, now, there was no sound, and without there was a stillness only more vast. I could not tell whether certain sensations in my ear were given by insects in the grass and trees or merely by my overwrought nerves and tired neck. The moon sailed high, the air was at last comfortably cool, my horse stood and slept. I thought it must be half-past two.

I could not speak, I shook my head, and for evidence in rebuttal I showed in my eyes two fountains of standing tears.

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