"Mother sent me over to see you," he went on to say in a voice that quivered a little despite his manly effort to control his feelings.
"I hope she isn't sick, Conrad?" ventured the scout-master, anxiously.
"No, it's father," the boy said after he had gulped several times. "You see, he hasn't come home; and we're so afraid something dreadful has happened to him."
Elmer looked doubly concerned.
"Do you mean he was away from home during that awful storm last night?" he went on to ask.
The other nodded his head, and then managed to explain further. Even the proximity of Elmer seemed to have already done him much good; for there was a certain atmosphere connected with the resolute scout-leader that inspired the utmost confidence.
"He started to go to the lake that is farthest away, for there are two small ones, you may not know," Conrad explained. "He had some set lines there that needed attention, and we wanted the fish for eating, too. But father backed out once, for he said he had wrenched his leg and felt a little lame. But in the end he decided to start, though mother didn't just like him to go."
"About what time was that, Conrad?" asked Elmer, in his methodical way, eager to grasp the full details so he could figure out the answer.
"Just about an hour before the storm came along," the boy told him. "Father said he believed it would hold off long enough for him to get there and back, but his leg must have kept him from walking as fast as he generally does. So the storm broke, and we kept watching through the window when we could see anything, for the rain and the flying leaves. But night came, and oh! what a night we had, mother and I. It never seemed to end. I did fall asleep somehow, but I don't believe she once shut her eyes—poor mother."