"I probably ought to do that more. I just get carried away by the excitement of it all." He unfolds some of his papers and displays the clumsy, crude drawings to Altair.

"Only pictures. I like to draw horses and battles, like Father's in." Bayard's face glows with an enraptured reverence when he speaks of his father, and thinks of the good Colonel protecting the women and children of Jefferson against the might of the Yankees with only his wit and his horse and a handful of rejects from the army proper. "What profession are you, sir, if you ain't an artist?"