"Fur more'n a hunderd years the women uv our fam'ly hev run all the bullets our menfolks shot.
They b'lieved hit made 'em lucky.

Granfather Fortner killed an Injun chief acrost the Maumee River at the battle of Fallen Timbers with a bullet thet Granmother hed run fur him an' markt with a little cross.
Afore the battle begun Granfather tuck the bullet outen his pouch an' put hit inter his mouth, until he could git a chance ter use hit on big game.

He brot the chief's scalp hum ter Granmother." "I believe the bullets you cast for me will do good service," said Harry, with sincerity in his tones.
"I'm sartin of hit," she returned, confidently.

"I hev adopted ye in my heart ez a son, an' I feel towards ye ez ef ye were raylly uv my own kin.

I know ye'll be a credit to yerself an' me." While the lead was melting upon the bed of coals she drew out on the hearth, she sat in her low chair with her hands clasped about her knees, and her great gray eyes fixed upon the depths of a mass of glowing embers in the fireplace, as if she saw there vivid pictures of the past or revelations of the future.
"How wonderfully bright an' glowin' hit is in thar," she said musingly; "hit's purer an' brighter then ennything else on arth.