Redbud is sauntering over the sward, and listening to the wind in the beautiful fallwoods, when, from those woods which stretch toward the West, emerges a figure, which immediately rivets her attention. It is a young man of about eighteen, mounted on a small, shaggy-coated horse, and clad in a wild forest costume, which defines clearly the outline of a person, slender, vigorous, and graceful. Over his brown forehead and smiling face, droops a wide hat, of soft white fur, below which, a mass of dark chestnut hair nearly covers his shoulders with its exuberant and tangled curls. Verty--for this is Verty the son, or adopted son of the old Indian woman, living in the pine hills to the west--Verty carries in one hand a strange weapon, nothing less than a long cedar bow, and a sheaf of arrows; in the other, which also holds his rein, the antlers of a stag, huge and branching in all directions; around him circle two noble deer-hounds. Verty strongly resembles an amiable wild cat; and when he sees Redbud, smiles more than ever. The girl runs toward him, laughing gaily-- "Oh, Verty!" she says, "indeed I am very glad to see you. Where have you been?" With which, she gives him her hand. "At home," says Verty, with his bright, but dreamy smile; "I've got the antlers for the Squire, at last." And Verty throws the rein on the neck of his little horse, who stands perfectly still, and leaps lightly to the ground. He stands for a moment gazing at Redbud with his dreamy and smiling eyes, silent in the sunshine like a shadow, then he pushes back his tangled chestnut curls, and laughs. "I had a long chase," he says. "For the deer?" "Yes," says Verty, "and there are his horns. Oh, how bright you look." Redbud returns his smile. "I think I didn't live before I knew you; but that was long years ago," says Verty, "a very long time ago." And leaning for a moment on his bow, the forest boy gazes with his singular dreamy look on Redbud, who smiles. "Papa has gone out riding," she says, "but come, let's go in, and put up the antlers." Verty assents readily to this, and speaking to his horse in some outlandish tongue, leaves him standing there, and accompanies Redbud toward the house. "What was that you said?" she asked; "I didn't understand." "Because you don't know Delaware," said Verty, smiling. "Was it Indian?" "Yes, indeed. I said to Cloud--that's his name you know--I told him to _crouch_; that means, in hunter language, _keep still_." "How strange!" "Is it? But I like the English better, because you don't speak Delaware, my own tongue; you speak English." "Oh, yes!" Redbud says. "I don't complain of your not speaking Delaware," says Verty, "for how could you, unless _ma mere_ had taught you? She is the only Indian about here." "You say _ma mere_--that means, 'my mother,' don't it?" "Yes; oh, she knows French, too. You know the Indian and the French--I wonder who the French are!--used to live and fight together." "Did they?"