  “He was gone when I woke up,” called Jack, who had been dressing rapidly. He came out of the tent and began looking about the wagon, tent, and surrounding woods in the persistent fashion of people, who, under like circumstances, feel that although search is useless, action of some kind is an immediate necessity. “What ever shall we do?” whispered DesirÉ, tears streaming down her cheeks, when Jack returned from a fruitless search of the nearby places. “Don’t get excited, dear,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “He could have come to no harm, and I’ll find him all right.” “But you must have help. Oh, I wish we were near the Riboux family!” “We’ll drive back into the town to make inquiry, and then see what can be done. I know he’s not around here; for I’ve searched everywhere.” “The—the brook?” faltered DesirÉ. “Yes, I rather thought I might find him playing there. He enjoyed it so much last night,” he added, with a feeble effort at a smile, “but there’s no sign of him. Anyway, the water’s not deep enough to drown a dog, much less a hearty youngster.” “Jack—the Indians—” “Now, DesirÉ, don’t let your imagination run away with you. They’re perfectly harmless.” “What I mean is, could Renny be with them?” “The camp’s gone. They must have pulled out at daybreak—” “Well, but he may have followed them,” persisted DesirÉ. “You know how wild he was to go over there last night.” “It’s a possibility,” replied Jack, thoughtfully. “Probably you’re right. If so, he is perfectly safe; and I’ll find out in town how to reach them. We’d better eat, and then drive back.” They roused Priscilla, who began to cry as soon as she heard of her brother’s disappearance, and continued until Jack said gravely— “Don’t make matters worse, Prissy; you can help by being cheerful. Never cry until you’re sure there is something to cry about. It’s a waste of good energy.” “Now for town,” he continued, as they at last climbed into the wagon which seemed strangely empty without the little boy. Jack was assuming a forced cheeriness, which he was far from feeling; for in spite of his advice to DesirÉ, he was consumed with anxiety. He felt relieved, now, at the outcome of the “punishment” last night; if RenÉ had minded, they might think he had run away. But perhaps he had been wrong in adopting this kind of a life, with the children. If anything happened to them! He was interrupted by hearing DesirÉ say— “Prissy, you sit in the back of the wagon and keep watch on the road to see if you can discover any traces of RenÉ.” “Jack, dear,” she went on softly, as they drove into Bear River again, “please don’t blame yourself for what has happened. It surely wasn’t your fault, or anybody’s for that matter. He might have wandered off, even if we’d been at home; and I feel sure he is safe with the Indians.” “You’re a comfort, Dissy,” replied her brother, managing a half smile. In front of the post office stood the very man who had given them the information concerning the Indians’ pilgrimage, on the preceding day; and, pulling up, Jack told him in a few words what had happened. “Now that’s too bad,” replied the man with genuine concern, resting one foot on the wheel hub; “if I was you—” “Is it far to the Island of the Holy Family?” interrupted DesirÉ. “Oh, yes; and come to think on’t, I don’t suppose that band was goin’ there anyhow; they’d not get there in time. They’re probably on their way back to the reservation.” “Then where could we look for them?” questioned Jack, his heart sinking at the destruction of their hopes. “If I was you, I’d keep right along this road toward Annapolis Royal, and perhaps you’ll catch up with them. They don’t travel fast, and you could ask in every town if they’d been through. There’s no real cause for you to worry, friends, for the little chap will be well treated. The Indians like little folks.” Jack looked at DesirÉ. “It’s good advice, don’t you think?” she asked. “Perhaps,” he replied doubtfully, turning the team around, and thanking the man for his help. “Good luck to you,” he called, as they started off; and Priscilla, leaning out of the back of the wagon, waved a goodbye. All day long they drove, almost in silence, stopping only for a hurried lunch. Toward evening, when the hills had turned to red purple, they drove across a quaint covered bridge—that is, one which has a roof and solid sides of wood, like a house—over a stream whose sparkling, merry water was as yellow as gold from the reflection of the setting sun. “I’m awfully hungry,” sighed Priscilla. “I was just going to propose that we stop under these oaks for supper,” said DesirÉ. “We can’t live without eating.” |
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