“She hasn’t been there since ye brought her over the other day.”
“Then heaven save us! she is lost.”
It was the mother who uttered this wail, as she convulsively clasped her hands and walked distractedly to and fro.
The boys leaped out of the boats and gathered round the grief-smitten couple.
“Tell us what this means,” said Scout Master Hall, as he sympathetically clasped the hand of the physician, who spoke with rare self-command, though his wife began sobbing as if her heart was broken:
“We did not miss her until about an hour ago; I sat in front of the house smoking and talking with wife, when she remarked that it was time Ruth was in bed. I called to her, but there was no answer. Thinking she had fallen asleep inside, I lighted a match and looked around, wife joining me. A brief search showed she was not there. We hurried outside, and I shouted again.
“By that time we were in an agony of distress and wife was sure something dreadful had happened to her. As soon as we could command our wits we found that neither of us had seen her for nearly two hours and the thought struck us both that she had wandered off to the bungalow. If she had kept along the beach and walked steadily she would have had time to reach you, but there are so many other awful chances that I dared not trust to that, so I appealed to you.”
“And you did right; there is nothing that is possible for us to do that we will not do,” was the response of Scout Master Hall.
“She may still be wandering along the beach on her way to the bungalow.”
“Five of our boys are hurrying over the same course to this point, and will be sure to meet and bring her home.”