“All right, Locke.”
Then how could Maurice have received a message from Ringe? Why had he got up so early and finished his breakfast before—What was that scratch?
As these questions flashed one after the other through my mind, I sprang up and ran to the door. He was just flicking the reins on his horse’s neck for it to start. He hardly ever wore gloves, but he had a pair on this morning, and the scratch was hidden.
“Maurice,” I cried out, “where is Snowie?”
He turned on his horse without stopping it and regarded me with surprised eyes.
“Snowie?”
“Yes—my kitten?”
“Why, haven’t you seen her around the place this morning? She was in the dining-room a few minutes ago.”
“Oh!” I cried, and my heart nearly burst with relief. I waved to him, gladness in my smile, and ran back into the dining-room calling the kitten. “Snowie—Snowie—Snow—ie.”
Later I went into the yard, and all round the huts, still calling. But she did not come running with her little tail erect and her little pink mouth open. There was no sign of her. I turned to the boys, but their faces were blank walls. No one had seen her that morning. I questioned Mango. He had not noticed her, he said. Doubtless if the Inkos said so, she must have been in the dining-room, but he had not happened to notice her.