“Yes, I know,” replied Leon meekly; “I didn’t mean to. But you go on now, for the storm is getting worse, every minute.”
Harry looked at him anxiously. He was afraid the boy had done more harm than he would admit; but, in the meantime, as he had said, the storm was increasing, and he felt that Leon’s clue was too valuable to be neglected. With a reluctant glance at his brother he turned away, and followed the other boys down the stairs and out to the road.
“This is a genuine blizzard, and no mistake,” remarked Louis, as the boys paused at the gate to button their coats tightly, turn up their collars and pull their caps well down over their eyes, before turning north, to face the cutting wind.
“I believe you,” responded Harry briefly. “That baby couldn’t stand this long.”
Then they were silent, for the wind blew the words back into their teeth, and they needed all their energy to struggle onward against the driving storm. The walking was comparatively easy as yet, for the snow was soft and light, and only a few inches had fallen; but it powdered the fences and tree-trunks and threw a bluish-white light over all the landscape, till it seemed as if they were passing through a strange and ghostly world. On they plodded, now facing the storm, now turning to walk backwards for a few steps, now stopping short to regain their breath. They passed through the village street; quite deserted it seemed to them, for even the hardy farmers were staying inside their homes that day; then they came out past the last house in the street, went down the hill, crossed the brook at the foot and struck out into the open country. For a mile the road was quite unsheltered; then it wound along under the trees, gaining a partial protection from the storm; then again it came out on the shore of the little lake, across which the wind swept fiercely. They talked but little on the way, so absorbed were they in reaching the end of their journey, for not one of the lads had the faintest doubt of finding Gyp curled up by the fire in Jerry’s cabin. Leon’s suggestion had seemed so probable to them that they had accepted it as a fact, and felt quite sure that they would go triumphantly back to Flemming, with Gyp in their arms.
It was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon when they came in sight of Jerry’s well-known blue door. Exhausted as they were, half-frozen and faint with hunger, the sight of the cabin roused them until they broke into a run. Harry reached the door first, pushed it open and glanced in. Then he stopped short, and his face grew deadly pale. No Gyp was there; only old Jerry dozing contentedly before the fire, with his dogs asleep around him.
“She isn’t here,” he said faintly, facing the others as they came up.
“Not here!” echoed Louis and Stanley, growing white in their turn.
“No one here but Jerry,” repeated Harry; and the three boys stood gazing at one another, in blank dismay.
The rush of cold air had wakened Jerry, who turned drowsily in his chair, caught sight of the well-known uniform, and was on his feet at once, to show his respect for his guests.