life in such a light way as he seemed to.

Women usually like to talk over their trials and their wonderful
adventures, and that is why I am writing this, I suppose. Men
simply will not talk about such things.

The cavalry beauty seemed to look at this frontier life
philosophically--what she really thought about it, I never knew.
Mrs. Bailey was so much occupied by the care of her young child
and various out-door amusements, that she did not, apparently,
think much about things that happened around us. At all events,
she never seemed inclined to talk about them. There was no one
else to talk to; the soil was strange, and the atmosphere a
foreign one to me; life did not seem to be taken seriously out
there, as it was back in New England, where they always loved to
sit down and talk things over. I was downright lonesome for my
mother and sisters.

I could not go out very much at that time, so I occupied myself a
good deal with needle-work.

One evening we heard firing across the canon. Jack caught up his
sword, buckling on his belt as he went out. "Injuns fighting on
the other side of the river," some soldier reported. Finding that
it did not concern us, Jack said, "Come out into the back yard,
Martha, and look over the stockade, and I think you can see
across the river." So I hurried out to the stockade, but Jack,
seeing that I was not tall enough, picked up an empty box that
stood under the window of the room belonging to the Doctor, when,
thud! fell something out onto the ground, and rolled away. I