"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 of my stupidity. This was a woman beyond all doubt--her hair, released by the sudden removal of the hat, swept in a dark wave over her shoulders, and she flung it back with a movement of the hand. The gleam of the stars gave me the contour of her face, and the sparkle of her eyes. A woman, young, pretty--and actually laughing at me, her white teeth clearly visible. Whatever of conceit or audacity may be part of my nature, deserted me in a flash, and I could only stare in helpless amazement. "My God! I believe you are!" I ejaculated at last, the words bursting forth unconsciously. "How could I have made--who are you anyhow?" The restrained laughter rippled forth, as though the expression of my face appealed to her sense of humor. Evidently the lady was no longer afraid of me, nor greatly distressed over the situation. "Isn't it too funny," she exclaimed cheerfully, "and won't Billie laugh about this when I tell him!" "Maybe he will," I acknowledged rather regretfully, "but it doesn't make me laugh." Then a vague suspicion gripped me. "Why did you think I took you for Billie?" "Why, that was what you called me, wasn't it? The officer who escorted me past the pickets said Billie Hardy was going to try to run the lines to-night. So it was easy enough to guess who you were after, Mr. Yankee. It was lucky for Billie you got me instead--or for you," she added doubtfully. "Oh, I guess I would have pulled through." "Maybe," the tone decidedly provoking, "but I reckon you don't know Billie."