his mind, like so many deer
in a herd, jostling each other, and entangling their horns.

Surely, it would not be wrong for him to embrace this chance of
discovering Redbud's residence--a chance which seemed to have been
afforded him by some unseen power. Why should he not keep the bird
until its wing was healed, and then observe the direction of its
flight? Why not thus find the abode of one in whose society so much of
his happiness consisted? Was there any thing wrong in it--would any
one blame him?

These were the questions which Verty asked himself, standing in the
October sunshine, and holding the wounded pigeon to his breast. And
the conclusion was ere long reached. He decided, to his own perfect
satisfaction, that he had the full right to do as he wished; and then
he re-entered the office.

Mr. Roundjacket was busy at some more law papers, and did not observe
the object which he carried. Verty sat down at his desk; betook
himself to copying, having rejected the sketch-ornamented sheet; and
by evening had done a very fair day's work.

Then he put on his hat, placed the wounded pigeon in his bosom, and,
mounting his horse, set forward toward the hills.

"In three days," he said, "you will be cured, pretty pigeon, and then
I will let you go; and it will be hard if I don't follow your flight,
and find out where your mistress lives. Oh, me! I must see Redbud--I
can't tell why, but I know I must see her!"

And Verty smiled, and went on with a lighter heart than he had
possessed for many a day.

CHAPTER IX.

HAWKING WITHOUT A HAWK.

Verty nursed the wounded pigeon with the tenderness of a woman and the
skill of a physician; so that on the third day, as he had promised
himself, the bird was completely "restored to health." The wing had
healed, the eyes grown bright again, every movement of the graceful
head and burnished neck showed how impatient the air-sailer was to
return to his mistress and his home.

"_Ma mere_" said Verty, standing at the door of the old Indian woman's
lodge, "I think this pretty pigeon is well. Now I shall carry it back,
and I know I shall find Redbud."

Verty, it will be seen, had concealed nothing from his mother; indeed,
he never concealed anything from anybody. He had told her quite simply
that he wanted to see Redbud again; that they wouldn't tell him where
she was; and that the pigeon would enable him to find her. The old
woman had smiled, and muttered something, and th