A boy of about ten perched on top of a gate-post to better see the approaching cavalry. His older brother walked over to him, a half-whittled stick still in his hand. He shaded his eyes against the setting sun and looked on with envy. Jeffrey was fourteen and certainly a man in his own mind. That his mother disagreed was not his fault at all.
"They are all right, " he said slowly "Aren't they, Will."
More @ NamSouth