mation to both
sides. He is an impostor. I think he is the scout they call Leroy."
Whereupon she gave utterance to a laugh so merry that it sounded out of
place in the gloomy woods. It brought Whistling Jim alongside to see
what the trouble was. He said he thought the young master was crying.
She laughed again, and then suddenly paused.

"We are very near the house," she said, "and all who live there are my
friends. I shall be perfectly safe there. You have been very kind to
me--kinder than you know. We have both seen each other at our very
worst. Should we meet again, I hope we shall appear to better
advantage."

She had entirely recovered her self-possession, but in doing so she
forgot the part she was playing, forgot that she was arrayed in the
toggery of a man, and was now altogether a woman. I do not remember all
that was said, but I tried as hard as I could to conceal from her the
fact that I had discovered her sex and her identity; I had not the
least desire to humiliate her by airing my penetration. She stood
silent for a while, as if in thought, or perhaps she was waiting for me
to say farewell.

"You will do well to go in," I said. "The night is cold and damp."

"The cold and the damp are nothing to me," she replied. "I am warm
enough. You were speaking a while ago of Frank Leroy. Don't forget that
he is the best friend I have in the world except my mother.
Good-night!" She held out her hand, and again it nestled, white and
soft and warm, in my great paw, and stayed there a moment. The little
hand must have been frightened, for it fluttered slightly and then flew
back to its mistress.

I said good-night, but it was not a very gracious farewell, I am
afraid. "I knew I had something to say to you," she remarked. "In the
house there is a young Federal officer who was wounded some time ago.
He has been in a very bad way, but he is better now. While he was at
the worst of his illness he was constantly calling the names of some
friends he has among the rebels. One of them he seems to be specially
fond of--he calls him Harry Herndon. The other he calls Carroll
Shannon. It may be that you know them."

"I am acquainted with Herndon," I replied. "Shannon I have never met,
and I have no desire to meet him."

She was silent a moment, and then went on: "I thought that if the two
would take the trouble to call on the wounded man it would do him
good--though I am astonished that he should desire to see rebels and
t