Garrison, and he spread it out on his filly's mane. It was a photograph
of a jockey--Billy Garrison. The face was more youthful, care-free.
Otherwise it was a fair likeness.

"You'll admit it looks somewhat like you," said Sue, with great dryness.

Garrison studied it long and carefully. "Yes--I do," he murmured, in a
perplexed tone. "A double. Funny, isn't it? Where did you get it?" She
laughed a little, flushing.

"I was silly enough to think you were one and the same, and that you
wished to conceal your identity from your relatives. So I made occasion
to steal it from the book your aunt was about to read. Remember? It was
the leaf she thought the major had abstracted."

"I must thank you for your kindness, even though it went astray. May I
have it?"

"Ye-es. And you are sure you are not the original?"

"I haven't the slightest recollection of being Billy Garrison,"
reiterated Billy Garrison, wearily and truthfully.

The ride home was mostly one of silence. Both were thinking. As they
came within sight of Calvert House the girl turned to him:

"There is one thing you can do--ride. Like glory. Where did you more
than learn?"

"Must have been born with me."