"Oh pshaw now!" said Abram. "Man alive! I'm not onreasonable.
O' course in case o' sickness I'd be glad if you could run across
a squirrel. All I wanted was to have a clear understandin' about
the birds. Good luck, an' good day to you!"

Abram started across the field to Nancy, but he repeatedly turned
to watch the gleam of the gun-barrel, as the hunter rounded the
corner and started down the river bank. He saw him leave the
line of the fence and disappear in the thicket.

"Goin' straight for the sumac," muttered Abram. "It's likely I'm
a fool for not stayin' right beside him past that point. An'
yet--I made it fair an' plain, an' he passed his word 'at he
wouldn't touch the birds."

He untied Nancy, and for the second time started toward the
sumac. He had been plowing carefully, his attention divided
between the mare and the corn; but he uprooted half that row, for
his eyes wandered to the Cardinal's home as if he were
fascinated, and his hands were shaking with undue excitement as
he gripped the plow handles. At last he stopped Nancy, and stood
gazing eagerly toward the river.

"Must be jest about the sumac," he whispered. "Lord! but I'll be
glad to see the old gun-barrel gleamin' safe t'other side o' it."

There was a thin puff of smoke, and a screaming echo went rolling
and reverberating down the Wabash. Abram's eyes widened, and a
curious whiteness settled on his lips. He stood as if incapable
of moving. "Clang! Clang!" came Maria's second warning.