THE dusty young man riding the wiry little dun was singing as if he hadn't a care in the world:"Around her neck she wore a yellow ribbon;She wore it in December and in the month of May.I asked her why she wore the yellow ribbon;She said because her lover was far, far away!"A not too distant rifle cracked a period. Zung-g-g! The bullet ripped past not far overhead."Good line, but high," remarked the dusty young man, cocking a cheerful eye at the quartermile sweep of rising ground in front of his horse's nose. "Does the gentleman mean me?" he continued in a drawl. "He couldn't 'a' heard me singin' through half a mile o' solid earth, an' he couldn't 'a' expected to drill me through the same. No, not the way they're loadin' shells nowadays. Still--"