ing upon my rifle, I gazed directly at him in astonishment. How,
by all that was miraculous, did this strange black know my name and
nationality? His was a round face, filled with good humor; nothing in
it surely to mistrust, yet totally unknown to me.

"You speak correctly," I made reply, surprise evident in the tones of
my voice. "I have no reason to deny my name, which is held an honest
one here in New Orleans. How you learned it, however, remains a
mystery, for I never looked upon your face before."

"No, sah; I s'pects not, sah, 'cause I nebber yet hab been in dem dere
parts, sah. I was sent yere wid a most 'portant message fer Massa
Benteen, an' I done reckon as how dat am you, sah."

"An important message for me? Surely, boy, you either mistake, or are
crazy. Yet stay! Does it come from Nick Burton, the flatboat-man?"

"No, sah; it am a lady wat sent me yere."

He was excessively polite, exhibiting an earnestness which caused me to
suspect his mission a grave one.

"A lady?"

I echoed the unexpected word, scarcely capable of believing the
testimony of my own ears. Yet as I did so my heart almost ceased its
throbbing, while I felt the hot blood rush to my face. That was an age
of social gallantry; yet I was no gay courtier of the town, but a
hunter of the woods, attired in rough habiliments, little fitted to
attract the attention of womanly eyes amid the military glitter all
about.

A lady! In the name of all the gods, what lady? Even in the old days
I enjoyed but a limited circle of acquaintance among women. Indeed, I
recalled only one in all the wide province of Louisiana who might
justly be accorded so high an appellation even by a negro slave, and
certainly she knew nothing of my presence in New Orleans, nor would she
dream of sending for me if she did. Convinced of this, I dismissed the
thought upon the instant, with a smile. The black must have made a
mistake, or else some old-time acquaintance of our family, a forgotten
friend of my mother perhaps, had chanced to hear of my return.
Meanwhile the negro stood gazing at me with open mouth, and the sight
of him partially restored my presence of mind.

"Is she English, boy?"

"No, sah, she am a French lady, sah, if ebber dar was one in dis hyar
province. She libs ober yonder in de Rue Dumaine, an' she said to me,
'Yah, Alphonse, you follow dat dar young feller wid de long rifle under
his arm an' de coon-skin cap, an' fotch him hyar to