At last things were in a general state of upheaval, the mothers and children dramatically streaked with mud and stove polish. “The only place to get all this grime off is in the river, Millie. Let’s take the children and go down to the bank.” They knelt at the river’s edge, their heads well sudsed, when a faint call penetrated their conversation. “ “Hi-yoo, Silver.”
“Betty, they’re here! Oh, I’m a sight - and the house is in a mess! Look, they’re calling for the horses. Look, look, children, Daddy’s home. Home from the Indians!” “I will say of the Lord, He is... my fortress. ... Surely He shall deliver thee... Thou shalt not be afraid for the terror by night; nor for the arrow that flieth by day...”. (Psalm 91:2-5)
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