Back near the ranch they met Dick and Sir Redmond. They exchanged sharp looks, and Dick shook his head.
“We haven't found him—yet. The boys are riding circle around the ranch; they're bound to find him, some of them, if we don't.”
“You had better go home,” Sir Redmond told her, with a note of authority in his voice which set Keith's teeth on edge. “You look done to death; this is men's work.”
Beatrice bit her lip, and barely glanced at him. “I'll go—when Dorman is found. What shall we do now, Dick?”
“Go down to the house and get some hot coffee, you two. We all snatched a bite to eat, and you need it. After that, you can look along the south side of the coulee, if you like.”
Beatrice obediently turned Rex toward home, and Keith followed. The ranch seemed very still and lonesome. Some chickens were rolling in the dust by the gate, and scattered, cackling indignantly, when they rode up. Off to the left a colt whinnied wistfully in a corral. Beatrice, riding listlessly to the house, stopped her horse with a jerk.
“I heard—where is he?”
Keith stopped Redcloud, and listened. Came a thumping noise, and a wail, not loud, but unmistakable.
“Aunt-ie!”
Beatrice was on the ground as soon as Keith, and together they ran to the place—the bunk-house. The thumping continued vigorously; evidently a small boy was kicking, with all his might, upon a closed door; it was not a new sound to the ears of Beatrice, since the arrival in America of her young nephew. Keith flung the door wide open, upsetting the small boy, who howled.