"I heard that the militia had been ordered home and I got here as soon as I could. I have been home about two hours and mother and I—but where is father?"
"Hasn't he come yet? Why, I thought he was here. We've all been scattered since the last stand."
"I will go and look for him," said the giant, taking up his gun from against the wall.
"I'm going with you," Louise declared. "Go on in the house, Uncle Gideon, and don't tell mother where I'm gone. Now, you needn't say a word—I'm going."
Down the road they went, and out into the woods. Far away they saw the cabins blazing, on the banks of the bayou, and occasionally a gun was heard, a dull bark, deep in the woods.
"You'd better go back," said Jim.
"No, I'm going with you. Oh, but this must have been an awful day—but let us not talk about it now." And after a time she said: "And you didn't suspect that I was doing newspaper work. They tell me that I did it well, too."
"I read a story in a newspaper that reminded me of you," he said. "It was called 'The Wing of a Bird.' It was beautiful."
"I didn't think so," she replied.
"Probably you didn't read it carefully," said he.