There would only be five men searching today, himself, his father, Ben, Arthur Reynolds, and Frank Porter. All the others felt it was useless. They started out early, and as usual, went in different directions. He had walked farther than usual, and as he looked around him, he sadly shook his head. There had been such destruction from the war. Several houses had been burned to the ground, with only the chimneys left standing. His family and those of the ones he loved had been lucky. They had suffered only minor damages. As he stood there he wondered what had become of these families. He hoped they had survived. He began walking once more, and had turned and was heading back in the direction in which he had come, when he heard something. He stopped and listened. He heard it again. It sounded like a child’s voice. He walked in the direction in which it was coming. As he drew nearer, he could hear more clearly. He could tell it was a frightened child.
