Lieutenant Helm came out as I went in, and I paused an instant to ask him in fierce suspicion if he had bandaged his hand himself. "No," he whispered, "Miss Camille." It was a lie, but I did not learn that until months after. "Come downstairs as soon as you can," he added, "there\'s a hot supper down there; first come first served." We parted.

I found Miss Harper fanning the wounded giant and bathing his brows, and my smiles were ample explanation of my act as I hung the sword up. Then I brought in my leader. "Captain Jewett," he said after a nearly silent exchange of greetings, "I wish we had you uninjured."

"Ah, no, Lieutenant, this is bad enough. Lieutenant, there is one matter--"

"Yes, Captain, what is that?"

"The villain who set those fires--you know who he is, I hope."

"Yes, Captain, I know."

"He didn\'t begin that until after he left me. I had some private reasons for not killing him when I might have done it."

"Yes, Captain, I know that, too."

"Yet if I had caught him again I would have strung him up to the first limb."

"I have sent some picked men to catch him if they can," said Ferry, and the racked sufferer lifted a hand in approval. Camille came to her aunt and whispered "Mr. Gholson with two doctors." The wounded captive heard her.

"Lieutenant," he panted, "I hope you\'ll--do me the favor--to let my turn with those gentlemen--come last,--after my boys,--will you?"

"Ah! Captain, even our boys wouldn\'t allow that; no, here\'s a doctor, now."

I went down to the supper-table. Camille was there, dispensing its promiscuous hospitality to men who ate like pigs. I would as leave have found her behind a French-market coffee-stand. Harry Helm, nursing his bandaged hand, was lolling back from the board and quizzing her with compliments while she cut up his food. A fellow in the chair next mine said he had seen me with Ferry when we joined the Louisianians\' charge. "Your aide-de-camp friend over yonder\'s a-gitt\'n\' lots o\' sweetenin\' with his grub; well, he deserves it."

I asked how he deserved it. "Why, we wouldn\'t \'a\' got here in time if he hadn\'t \'a\' met-up with us. That man Gholson, he\'s another good one."

The latter remark seemed to me a feeler, and I ignored it, and inquired how Lieutenant Helm had got that furlough. (Furlough was our slang for a light wound.) "Oh, he got it mighty fair! Did you see that Yankee lieutenant with the big sabre-cut on his shoulder? Well, your friend yonder gave him that--and got the Yankee\'s pistol-shot in his hand. But that saved Gholson\'s life, for that shot was aimed to give Gholson a furlough to kingdom-come. Are they kinfolks?"

I mumbled that they were not even friends. "Wel............