r. Broussard, he keep 'em for fryin'
chickens and bri'lers; he eats a cock chicken ev'ry mornin' fur his
breakfus', day in and day out."

"Oh, Kettle!" said Anita, in a tone of soft reproach. She disliked the
notion of a cockpit, but she was a lover of abstract truth, which
Kettle was not.

"Well, Miss Anita," Kettle began argumentatively, "the truth is, Mr.
Broussard, he jes' keep them chickens to' 'commodate the chaplain. The
chaplain, he's a gre't cockfighter, an' he say, 'Mr. Broussard, the
Kun'l is mighty strict, an' kinder queer in his head, an' he ain't no
dead game sport like me an' you, so if you will oblige me, Mr.
Broussard, jes' keep my fightin' chickens in your cellar, an' if the
Kun'l say anything to you, tell him them chickens is yourn. You
wouldn't mind a little thing like that, would you, Mr. Broussard?'
That's what I hee'rd the chaplain say."

"Kettle!" shouted the Colonel, and Mrs. Fortescue remarked candidly:

"You are a big story-teller, Kettle, there isn't a word of truth in all
you have been telling."

"That's so, Miss Betty," announced Kettle, brazenly. "Truth is, Mr.
Broussard ain't got no chickens at all in his cellar, he keeps ducks,
Miss Betty, 'cause the water rises in the cellar all the time."

Kettle's active help did not end with wholesale lying as a means of
helping Broussard. Within a week every time the After-Clap caught
sight of Broussard he would shout for "Bruvver." This, Kettle
carefully explained, was the baby's way of saying Broussard, but it
brought a good many quarters from Broussard's pocket into Kettle's palm.

CHAPTER II

A PRETTY MAID AND A GAMECHICK

The December days sped on, and Christmas was nearing. As the great,
splendid fort was a shut-in place, the people in it made great
preparations for Christmas, if only to forget that they were shut in.
The Christmas Eve exhibition drill and music ride was to be the
principal event of the season, and, wonder of wonders, Anita was to
ride with Broussard at the music ride. This was not accomplished
without pleadings and even tears from Anita. Mrs. Fortescue took no
part in this affair between the Colonel and the adored of his heart;
Anita and the Colonel had always settled their problems between
themselves solely. Sergeant McGillicuddy had something to do with
wringing from the Colonel his consent that Anita should ride with
Broussard.

"Accordin' to my way of thinkin', Mr. Broussard is the best rider