After supper Joseph and Alix, followed by my sister and me, plunged into
the denser part of the woods.

"Take care, comrade," we heard Mario say; "don't go far."

The last rays of the sun were in the treetops. There were flowers
everywhere. Alix ran here and there, all enthusiasm. Presently Suzanne
uttered a cry and recoiled with affright from a thicket of blackberries.
In an instant Joseph was at her side; but she laughed aloud, returned to
the assault, and drew by force from the bushes a little girl of three or
four years. The child fought and cried; but Suzanne held on, drew her to
the trunk of a tree, sat down, and held her on her lap by force. The poor
little thing was horribly dirty, but under its rags there were pretty
features and a sweetness that inspired pity. Alix sat down by my sister
and stroked the child's hair, and, like Suzanne, spite of the dirt, kissed
her several times; but the little creature still fought, and yelled [in
English]:

"Let me alone! I want to go home! I want to go home!"

Joseph advised my sister to let the child go, and Suzanne was about to do
so when she remembered having at supper filled her pocket with pecans. She
quickly filled the child's hands with them and the Rubicon was passed....
She said that her name was Annie; that her father, mother, and brothers
lived in the hut. That was all she could say. She did not know her
parents' name. When Suzanne put her down she ran with all her legs towards
the cabin to show Alix's gift, her pretty ribbon.

Before the sun went down the wind rose. Great clouds covered the horizon;
large rain-drops began to fall. Joseph covered the head of his young wife