Bayou Folk

It was one afternoon in April, not long ago, only the other day, and the shadows had already begun to lengthen. Bertrand Delmandé, a fine, bright-looking boy of fourteen years,fifteen, perhaps,-was mounted, and riding along a pleasant country road, upon a little Creole pony, such as boys in Louisiana usually ride when they have nothing better at hand. He had hunted, and carried his gun before him...