He had found Redbud--she was there! There was no longer any necessity for such headlong speed--he could go on slowly now--the goal was near, and would not fly as he approached.
Verty drew near the house, which was a tall, wooden structure, embowered in trees, and carefully reconnoitered with true huntsman-like precision.

He thought that the place looked like the residence of Redbud--it was so bright, and sunny, and cheerful.
On the roof sat the returned pigeon, cooing, and pluming his wings among his fellows..