"Very well; at least Miss Summers is, despite her natural concern at our sudden taking off----" "Why, you are not going!" I interrupted. "Yes," he answered. "As far as Memphis, at least. Then I shall leave the troop to Amory and make for Sandbrook, whither the judge and the ladies will start in a few days. That is," he concluded, with a smile, "unless some new freak takes Miss Kitty Carrington. That little lady is ready to tear her pretty hair out by the handful this morning. She did not come to breakfast at all, and I fancy she had an unusually sharp skirmish with Amory last night. By the way, I've got a note for him, and he's gone,--gone clear to the foot of Canal Street, too, to look at the accommodations on one of those smaller steamers,--and I was enjoined to give it to him at once." "Give it to me; I'll take it," said I, all eagerness. "What boat will he be looking at? I'll get there in short order." "He ought to be back here by noon," said Vinton. "It will take him not more than an hour." But I was eager to see Mars myself. The note must be from Kitty, I argued; and so, indeed, I knew it to be, from the dainty envelope and superscription when the major drew it forth. My theory was that I could get that note to him in less than twenty minutes, and probably be the bearer of peace propositions. It was too alluring a prospect; besides, I was tired of waiting around headquarters doing nothing. Vinton saw my eagerness, smiled, gave me his consent and the note, and in half an hour I was at the levee and aboard the "Indiana." Mars had been there and gone. So much for my officiousness. This time I took a cab, drove rapidly back to headquarters. Neither Vinton nor Amory was there. Mr. Parker said that the latter had galloped up not fifteen minutes after I left, reported that the "Indiana" could not take sixty horses, and was off again, he knew not whither. Vinton had gone to the stables. Thither I followed. "The major has just driven off in the quartermaster's ambulance, and they're gone to look at some steamboat," said the corporal at the gate. "The lieutenant's horse is back, sir, but he's gone away too." This was a complication. It was after twelve. The review was to come off at three. I wanted to go down and invite the ladies to drive with me to see it. But how could I face Kitty Carrington with that undelivered note? Over to Amory's house was the next venture. New despair. He and his mother had taken a street-car and gone up-town only a few minutes before I arrived. Now, what on earth could I do? "The lieutenant's horse was to be sent to his quarters," the corporal had informed me, "at quarter before three, and the lieutenant probably would not be back at the stables again before that time."