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

"Some of our boys attacked by a rabbit," I suggested, but still hearkened.

I surrender, he said, with amiable ease.

I went to Gholson. He told me I was relieved of my captive and bade me go care for my horse and return in half an hour. In going I passed close by the Sessions plantation house. Every door and window was thrown wide to the night air, and preparations were in progress for a dance; and as I returned, a slave boy ran across my path, toward the house, bearing a flaming pine torch and followed by two ambulances filled with daughters of the neighborhood in clouds of white gauze. I found the General in fatigue dress. His new finery hung on the tent-pole at his back. Old Dismukes, the bull-necked colonel of the Arkansans, lounged on a camp-cot. Both smoked cigars.

"You'd best not know; I want you to seem to have stumbled upon the place. You can't miss it; there's no other house within two miles of it. Good-bye, my lad;"--he gave me his hand;--"good luck to you."

"Who don't belong to Ferry's scouts at all," I still more sweetly added.

I mumbled something about never wishing to tempt any one.

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