“Of course you don’t,” put in Abe quickly. “It’s a wonder you remember anything. By jing! you must ’a’ been awful scart when that horse was running so. Course you didn’t notice much of anything else.”
“But are you sure, Abe—are you sure we’re taking the right course?”
“Just you leave it to me,” nodded the hunchback.
“But what if we should miss Dick? If we should not find him, what would become of us, Abe? We might starve here, perish from thirst, or be killed by Indians or something.”
Abe did his best to laugh reassuringly.
“Don’t you go to getting all fussed up that way. We’re all right. Let’s hurry up now, for it is getting late.”
It was getting late. The sun hung low in the west and the afternoon was far spent. In the boy’s heart there was a great fear that night would come upon them and find them alone in that wild region. When they sought to push on, the horses barely crept forward, having been badly used up by the mad flight and pursuit.
Lower and lower sank the great golden sun.
“Abe,” said Felicia, at last, her face pale and drawn, “we’re lost. Don’t try to deceive me; I know it.”
“Mebbe we are turned round some,” he admitted. “But that ain’t any reason why you should get frightened. There are lots of mining camps pretty near here. And even if we don’t find Dick—which we shall—we will be just sure to find a town.”