"Oh!" they said; then rubbed their chests, rolled their eyes to the bark roof, swung their swags over their shoulders, and set off at a trot, one to the east, the other to the south.
"Be quick!" Maggie called after them.
"Now, Aggie, have plenty of hot water in the copper. Put the kettle on. Put a batch of bread in the oven, and make scones. Put three or four joints to roast. I will send every man I can find to search, and when they come back they must be fed."
The two girls helped each other, and worked hard. In a short time their preparations were well forward. Every now and again a faint coo-ee was heard floating down the valley. The searchers were answering each other, and trying to let the lost girl know that she was being sought for. The cries came mournfully on the breeze, and made Maggie shudder. A coo-ee can be made joyful, hopeless, pathetic, funny—anything you please. It can say in a breath, "lost," "found!" And so the cries went on, in long drawn-out wails, until they died away altogether. Maggie did not recognise one hopeful note; they all sounded like a dirge.
The two girls had a weary, sorrowful time. They watched together, wept together, comforted each other, listened, and waited. The night passed away somehow. Morning broke at last. There was no sign of the search being successful. No man returned.
About eleven o'clock Mr. Bond and two men galloped up. The "sundowner" had delivered the letter about eight o'clock. After getting such information as he required from Maggie, Bond and the two men went away to add to the search party.
In a short time after they had gone Elsie's horse came up to the kitchen door. Maggie ran out.
"Oh, Hector!" she cried, clasping the horse round his neck. "Where is Elsie? How could you leave her? How could you desert her?"
Hector hung his head, and looked ashamed of himself.
"Good boy," said Maggie. "If I get on your back, will you take me to her?" Hector brightened up, as if he understood what she was saying.