Mr. Steele had come forward slowly; the fact that the six orphan boys really seemed to be lost, was an occasion to break down even his barrier of dislike for the neighbor. Besides, Mr. Caslon ignored any difference there might be between them in a most generous manner.
“I blame myself, Neighbor Steele—I sure do,” Mr. Caslon said, before the owner of Sunrise Farm could speak. “I’d ought to warned you about them twins. They got bit by the runaway bug bad—that’s right.”
“Humph! a family trait—is it?” demanded Mr. Steele, rather grimly eyeing the sister of the runaways.
“I couldn’t say about that,” chuckled the farmer. “But Willie and Dickie started off twice from our place, trailin’ most of the other kids with ’em. But I caught ’em in time. Now, their sister tells me, they’ve got at least an hour and a half’s start.”
“It is getting dark—or it will soon be,” said Mr. Steele, nervously. “If they are not found before night, I shall be greatly disturbed. I feel as though I were responsible. My oldest boy, here——”
“Now, it ain’t nobody’s fault, like enough,” interrupted Mr. Caslon, cheerfully, and seeing Bobbins’s woebegone face. “We’ll start right out and hunt for them.”
“But if it grows dark——”
“Let me have what men you can spare, and all the lanterns around the place,” said Caslon, briskly, taking charge of the matter on the instant. “These bigger boys can help.”
“I—I can go with you, sir,” began Mr. Steele, but the farmer waved him back.
“No. You ain’t used to the woods—nor to trampin’—like I be. And it won’t hurt your boys. You leave it to us—we’ll find ’em.”