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I made no reply. He looked momentous, leaned to me sidewise with a hand horizontally across his mouth, and whispered a name. It was new to me. "Charlie Toliver?" I murmured, for we were at the tent door.

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The ladies smiled; I glowered. "Take those horses by their heads and turn them to me!"

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

"Yes, General." "If I give you a good fresh horse can you go twenty-three miles more by midnight?"

"What is that?"

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