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"Good-day, sir," she said, with forced severity, but as I smiled apologetically and moved my rein, she broke down under new temptation and, as the wagon moved away, twittered after me unseen,--"Good-bye, Mr. Smith."

"Has he a taste for fiction?" I asked, with a depreciative smirk.

As the quartermaster lifted out a pair of brogans as broad as they were long, there came a cry of protestation from the freight-car group, that brought the entire herd of rustics from the woodpile and the locomotive. Miss Harper rose behind her nieces, tall, slender, dark, with keen black eyes as kind as they were penetrating. "My boy!" she cried, "you cannot wear those things!"

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

"General Austin believes it is. You're being used to bait a trap, Richard."

"--With General Austin," I continued, "--and with Lieutenant Ferry?"

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