glimpse of the man's profile beneath the broad brim of the hat, but his
coolness and silence aroused my suspicions.

"No tricks now," I threatened. "If you value your life do exactly as I
say."

"Who are you?" It was a rich contralto voice, that of a boy rather than
a man, the slight blur of the South distinguishable even in those
few words.

"Only a Yankee, son," I replied, satisfied I held the upper hand, and
clambering in over the back of the seat. He shrank back from contact
with me farther into the corner, but there was nothing in the slight
movement to cause alarm. I laughed softly.

"Don't exactly admire my color of uniform, do you?" I asked easily.
"Well, I can't help that, and you'll not find me such a bad fellow if
you act right. Where were you going in such a hurry?"

There was no answer. I could hear his rapid breathing, and catch a
glimpse of a beardless cheek.

"Don't you intend to tell me?"

Still silence, the shapeless figure motionless.

"Come, Billie," I urged, "what is the use of keeping up this game?"

He straightened up in surprise, startled into speech.

"You--you call me what? Why do you say 'Billie'?"

"Because I'm on. I haven't been hanging to the back of this outfit for
the last eight miles just for fun, or exercise either. I'm after those
despatches you're taking to Beauregard."

"Oh!"

"That's the state of affairs, and the sooner you hand over those
particular papers, Billie, the quicker this revolver play ends. Where
are they?"

"I haven't any," the slightly tremulous note had gone out of the voice.
It was firm with purpose now, even a bit sarcastic. "You've merely got
on the wrong trail, Yank. I reckon you mistook me for Billie Hardy."

"I reckon I did," I returned, mocking him, "and I 'm still satisfied
I've got the right party. You don't get out that easy, son; come
now, produce."

"Suppose I don't."

"Then there won't be much argument," I returned sharply, beginning to
lose patience. "I'll simply take them, if I have to shoot you first.
Come now, which shall it be?"

He straightened up, convinced apparently of my intentions.

"Neither, Mr. Yankee," indignantly. "I told you once you were mistaken.
Now I'll prove it--see here!" The soft hat was whipped off the head, and
the slender figure leaned forward to where the slight gleam of the stars
rendered the face visible. "Do you make war on women?"

I was too astounded for reply; dumfounded, dazed by this evidence