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Updated: May 9, 2025
The Widow McCabe walked with her head bowed, the ax held limply. Although rejoicing over the child's safety, I suspected she regretted not having had a chance to use her ax. "Here they come! Two babies!" some one shouted. Mrs. Moulton turned and ran toward the woods again, much as a hen-partridge scurries to its young. The bush-growth swayed and parted.
Dissatisfied at remaining in ignorance, I reined in to investigate more carefully. Almost at once the horse swung his head to the right and gazed curiously. On this side the space was bordered by a beech grove. Owing to the rank bush-growth lining the path, little could be seen of the grove from any point below where I had halted until a brook, which cut the path, was reached.
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