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"Good-morning," we said. One of the men was a sergeant. He scanned my animal, and then me, with a dawning smile. "That's a fightin'-cock of a horse you've got, sonny."

For a moment I quite forgot how evident it was that she had gathered earlier inklings of it from some one else. Suddenly my thought was of something far more startling. It stopped my breath; I halted; I held my temples; I stared. What would she do with a secret she had taken such hazards to extort? Ah! she'd carry it straight to market--why not? She would give it to the enemy! Before my closed eyes came a vision of the issue--disaster to our arms; bleeding, maiming, death, and widows' and orphans' tears.

"Why, I keep the plain road, don't I?"

"They were neither of them present, Lieutenant; that hand was Miss Coralie Rothvelt's."

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

Ferry saluted with his straight blade.

"Yes," I dishonestly responded, "his polished irreligion--"

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