“Our colonel has ordered the whole cadet corps to keep searching until we find the little one,” Don smiled. “We have divided up in bands to scour the country.”
“How very kind of your colonel—and of you!” cried the frightened woman. “With so many looking for the child I don’t see why she shouldn’t be found.”
“Unless she’s past finding!” croaked an old lady with a sad air and mournful eyes.
“She isn’t past finding,” snapped Jim, impatiently. “I haven’t any doubt that we’ll locate her. Now, Mrs. Carson, where was she last seen?”
“She went out last night about nine o’clock to bring in a rag doll that she had left out under the grape arbor,” replied the farmer’s wife. “I held the door open for her, so that she would surely find her way in, but she didn’t, poor little soul. Oh, I’m so sorry that I ever let her go out. We searched the yard immediately, but we couldn’t find a trace of her, and she didn’t answer our calls.”
“Thank you,” said Don gently. “Then she disappeared from her own back yard?”
“Yes,” nodded Mrs. Carson, wiping her eyes.
At that moment the county sheriff, a tall and disagreeable-looking man named Blount, swaggered into the room. It was evident that he regarded himself as the most important person there and as his eyes fell on the cadets his brow darkened.
“Humph!” he grunted. “So those soldier kids are looking too, eh? Well, they won’t find anything.”
Terry looked at the sheriff’s shoes, and then allowed his eyes to travel slowly up the entire length of his body until he had seen all of him. The sheriff reddened and then blustered.