“You brought him,” cried Peg. “What a watch-dog you are to me!” This with sudden warmth. “That is the word, a watch-dog--a faithful watch-dog with a great sleepless heart guarding its Peg! And you shall have a collar.” [Illustration: 0226] With that, since I was sitting in my chair and so within her reach, the minx crept up and threw her arms about my neck. It was simply play--the exuberance of a born tomboy. And yet I was glad we were alone and no General about, else I would have lived long ere I had heard the last of it. The situation would have fitted like a glove with the General's bent of humor, and I should not have cared for his raillery. Peg clung to my neck like a rose to an oak while I tried softly to loosen her arms. I could not make head against her for fear of hurting her. “How do you like your collar, watchdog?” she cried, with a chuckle. “And now the buckle--how do you like that?” Here she laid her velvet cheek against my face. “So, watch-dog, you would slip your collar?” This, banteringly. “There; you are free.” And Peg unlocked her arms and stood back smiling, her small, white leopard teeth just showing, and her eyes like diamonds. Then donning a satiric air: “Sir, you call yourself a gentleman and a politician. You should know, then, there be two honors no man may decline; the one is a presidency and the other is a--lady.” With this smartness on her lips Peg broke into downright merriment. The little witch was never so charming! That evening I was sitting alone with the General; each of us silent and within himself, wrapping his own fancies about him like a cloak. I know not on what uplands of conjecture the General's thoughts were grazing; for myself, I was dwelling on Peg, for I could still feel that soft, warm collar of her two arms clasping my neck. It is trenching on the wondrous, too, how the sweet image of a woman will train one's soul for war. No sooner would I take Peg upon the back of my meditations, than they straightway went plunging off to her enemies, and to tire themselves with vain circlings of how best to refute the malice of her foes and return upon their wicked heads the most of cruelty. Commonly I might be held as one not beyond touch of mercy, and indeed I have spared a painted Creek when he stood helpless. But I doubt me if Peg's foes, when by some sleight of fate they had fallen within my power, would have found a least loophole of relief. Of a verity! I think I might have looked long on their writhings ere my heart was touched or my hands raised to stay their tortures. While I sat in this blood-mood, and shedding in imagination the lives of ones who would persecute our innocent, my glance was caught by the General's pistols lying near by on a table. They were of that long, duelling breed belonging with the times, and the General kept them as bright and new as he kept his honor. “And why are those on parade?” I asked, pointing to the weapons.