“Because sometimes I think I see something moving about in the clearing near their house.”
“But I have looked for days for any sign of life there and have seen nothing,” Oscar insisted. “Perhaps you saw their chickens or their cow. They are usually gone at this time of year, but yet, I do not understand it. If Jake had anything to do with the Edmonds boys’ disappearance—and I am certain he had—he would be staying. And you say you saw him in the woods. No, I do not understand it. Perhaps he is in Rudolm helping still to spread the report that John Edmonds’ accounts are short and that he ran away.”
“Do you think we will ever find them?” Hugh asked, the discouragement of the whole week suddenly welling up in his voice.
“I do not know,” Oscar admitted, yet trying to speak cheerfully. “We can only go on looking until we make sure it is hopeless.”
He closed his book since Hugh’s continued questions had evidently made reading impossible. They sat together looking down the valley, so green and quiet in the sun. A lovely place, but a very lonely one, Hugh was thinking.
“I should think you would have a dog, Oscar,” he observed aloud. “It would be such company for you.”
The grimness of Oscar’s tone as he answered startled Hugh into turning square about.
“I had one,” he said, “and Jake killed him.”
“What,” exclaimed the boy, “are they so bad as that?”
“They are as bad as anything you can think of,” his friend answered.