"Lady," I commenced, "have no fear. Don't let us throw no scare into you. We ain't Huns—that is, I beg your pardon, but what I mean is you are perfectly safe and we will take care of you."
Well, the way she looked at me would of wrung a heart of stone. Her eyes was blue and she just stared at me as if I had hurt her—which of course was far from any mind there.
"Don't be scared," I says again. "You and the baby will get good care. Just come with us if you are able!"
When I spoke of the kid she give the poor little smothered thing a quick look and drew her cloak around it closer. Gee! but she looked fierce! She had quit crying but not a word out of her!
"You try!" I says to Ceasare. "The poor thing mebbe understands French."
So Ceasare, who was as much shot to pieces at the sight as I was, come forward.
"Madame!" says he, bowing with his cap in his hand. Then he shoots a lot of French about restes, au succuoor, and stuff I know meant "cut the worry." But she didnt get it any better than she had my line of talk, and only kept on looking scared.
Well by this time Mac come out of his stupor; but there was no use trying Scotch on her, that was plain. So there was nothing to it except forward march. For one thing my torch wouldnt of lasted much longer and for another it sure was getting late.
"Does your cousin's uncle which owns the barn have a house anywheres near, where we could leave her?" I asked Ceasare.
"All dead in this town!" he says cheerfully. "And this is the only building left I think it!"