Darkness retired. The twilight glimmered on the tallest trees. Morning, so wearily watched-for, came. The clouds broke in masses, and rolled tardily down the sky. Day gilded the heavens, and the tranquil bosom of the low Cayuga mantled in his beams, and reflected the glory of his face. But to the Waldron Settlement that smiling day brought little hope, and no enjoyment. A favorite child was lost from a goodly family, and ill feelings were agitated, and all hearts ran after him through thicket and field, over hill and valley, like shepherds after a lost lamb. Comfortless and faint, the family assembled at the morning altar, and one general sob of grief, and one leaping pulse of anxiety went round. They kneeled for prayer; and the venerable father bore their petitions before the Lord. He prayed for grace to sustain them in the trial. He acknowledged their errors; but bending at the feet of Infinite Kindness, he was encouraged to ask for a Father's blessing. He prayed for more faith in Providence. He prayed that they might have resignation, and that comfort might come to their hearts in the recovery of their little boy.
Grief brooded not over that altar alone. It sat upon every face; it occupied every home; it assailed every heart in the settlement. Tilly Troffater even seemed to share somewhat of the general sorrow, though seldom shedding a sympathetic tear.
"I never tuck a great likin' to childern," said he; "but I kindy liked little Clint; his cheeks was so soft, and smooth, and his eyes snapped sich funny fire; and he was olers so full o' his cunnin' jabber. I hope the painters haint ketched him. They yelled despotly last night; but I hope they haint ketched him yit. I'd like to see him agin, and baird his dimple face for him; the pretty mischief."
"He's worth a long hunt," said Colwell, "and my farm won't suffer if I search a month."
"I did not see how I could leave my work," said Wilson; "but I must give one hunt for Clinton; I must."
"We mustn't give him up yet. O, we can't give him up," added Uncle
Walter; "we couldn't spare a soul from the settlement; we couldn't
spare the leastest of your little brats, Troffater! But where are
Matthew and the Major?"
"They followed Julia to the woods, very early, to see if they could find a trace of the boy," replied Mother Fabens.
"Then we must follow them in a trice," said Uncle Walter; and a general council was had, and it was agreed that they should form a line of all the men and women, four rods apart, and sweep the woods for a distance round; and with horns and bells to give salutes, and luncheon to refresh them when hungry, they marched through the moaning woods.
Night overtook them while they looked still for day, and they returned heavy-hearted and weary to their homes. Large and diligent had been the search, and all the kind Indians were out with them, but no trace could be found of the lost boy. The Indians shook their heads dolefully, and gave signs of despair, though little was said in discouragement, and all volunteered to continue the search the next day. No fires were kindled that night, and only once, in an hour, the horn was sounded, from each house, to give signs of watchfulness, and keep the wild beasts in their distant dens. Morning returned, and another council convened to compare suggestions, and commence another search. Mother Fabens related a dream of the last night, and all gathered around, to hear it. She dreamed that Clinton was passing near the sugar camp, and a creature standing on his hind legs, rushed upon the boy, and bore him off to a multitude that looked like the creature, and let him go free among them. That Clinton wept at first, and tried to get away, but after awhile he looked cheerful again, and stayed with them till she awoke.
"Dreadful!" cried poor comfortless Julia; "can it, say, can it be true?"