Rafe Norris could not speak for passion. He ran to and fro in the little alcove, pounded the walls, shook the bed, and searched in places where a rat could hardly have taken refuge, with a dim idea that she might be there, while Velveteens looked on quietly.
“That gal is smart, Rafe,” he said. “One time I thort ye was a durned fool to marry anybuddy, but ef ye kin git a gal like that it’s diffrunt, I reckon. But whar in thunder hez she gone?”
“Why don’t you help me search?” cried Rafe. “Fool that we were to let her out of our hands for a moment.”
“It was stupid,” replied Velveteens, “but that won’t bring her back.”
They searched thoroughly everywhere but their search was vain. They were literally left without a clue of any kind, for the little room had no article of furniture which would have furnished a hiding-place for a rabbit.
“It looks almost like a supernatural act,” muttered Rafe below his breath. “Where can she have gone? I’ve a good mind to set fire to the cabin and take the chances of finding her.”
“Let’s do it,” said Velveteens, eagerly.
“I believe you would, old fellow,” said Rafe, laughing. “You don’t seem to care much whether you kill or cure—but remember thet I love the girl.”
“Love! oh, yes; that’s a nice word for Rafe Norris to speak. But, it won’t do to set a light to ther cabin fur that would bring the ‘brigade’ on us, right smart. We’ve got ter git out’n this place anyhow, before Old Pegs comes back. He’d make it hotter than hotness fur us.”
“I only wish he would come back,” replied Rafe, grating his teeth. “Curse him, he has been the cause of all our trouble. Now we won’t be able to get those Indians into a square fight again, this season. They were whipped too bad, curse the luck.”