“Oh, I’m used to ’em. Why, I’ve slept out in places as bad as this more’n one night. But Willie and Dickie ain’t used to it.”
One end of the line of searchers touched the pond. They shouted that information to the others, and then they all pushed on. It was in the mind of all that, perhaps, the children had circled back to the pond.
But their shouts brought no hoped-for reply, although they echoed across the open water, and were answered eerily from the farther shore.
There were six couples; therefore the line extended for a long way into the wood, and swept a wide area. They marched on, bursting through the vines and climbers, searching thick patches of jungle, and often shouting in chorus till the wood rang again.
Tom and one of the stablemen, who were at the lower end of the line, finally came to the mouth of that gorge out of which the brook sprang. To the east of this opening lay a considerable valley and it was decided to search this vale thoroughly before following the stream higher.
It was well they did so, for half a mile farther on, Tom and his companion made a discovery. They came upon the tall, blasted trunk of a huge old tree that had a great hollow at its foot. This hollow was blinded by a growth of vines and brush, yet as Tom flashed his lantern upon it, it seemed to him as though the vines had been disturbed.
“It may be the lair of some animal, sir,” suggested the stableman, as Tom attempted to peer in.
“Nothing much more dangerous than foxes in these woods now, I am told,” returned the boy. “And this is not a fox’s burrow—hello!”
His sudden, delighted shriek rang through the wood and up the hillside.
“I’ve found them! I’ve found them!” the boy repeated, and dived into the hollow tree.