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You got all her boys in d'army, killin' 'em; whyn't yo' go and git kilt some yo'self, 'stidder ridin' 'bout heah tromplin' all over po' folk's chickens?" When the troop returned in the evening, she was still blowing; "blowin' fur Millindy to come home," she said, with more sharpness than before. But there must have been many Millindys, for horns were sounding all through the settlement.
A little later, as the boys trudged home, they heard the horns blowing again a regular "toot-toot" for "Millindy." It struck them that supper followed dinner very quickly in Holetown. When the troop passed by in the evening the men were in very bad humor.
"What are you blowing-that horn for?" sternly asked the guard one morning of an old woman, old Mrs. Hall who stood out in front of her little house blowing like Boreas in the pictures. "Jes' blowin' fur Millindy to come to dinner," she said, sullenly. "Can't y' all let a po' 'ooman call her gals to git some'n' to eat?
The voice of the young woman was heard singing a war song in a high key. "Ef Millindy sees me, I'm a goner," he reflected. "Jes' come down the road a little piece, will you?" he asked, persuasively. "No talking, march!" ordered Frank. He looked at each of the boys; the guns still kept their perilous direction. The boys' eyes looked fiery to his surprised senses. "Who is y' all?" he asked.
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