CHAPTER XIV.
MISSING.
The minute quickly arrived when Jack Dudley could no longer doubt that a great misfortune had befallen his comrade, Fred Greenwood.
In the anguish of anxiety Jack's imagination pictured many mishaps that might account for the disappearance. He must have heard the report of the elder's Winchester, and, since Fred's attention was centred upon the herd of antelope, he could not fail to know that his friend had secured one of them for their evening meal. The only thing to prevent his hastening to join Jack must have been his inability to do so. There was the remote possibility that his accident had been of a nature that involved no one else—such, for instance, as sudden illness, though Jack had never known anything like that to overtake his friend.
All that the youth could do was to attempt to follow the route that Fred had taken when he set out to place himself on the other side of the game. It was guesswork to trace his footsteps, but the elder youth made the effort. When he had progressed half the distance, however, he paused, convinced that his labor was utterly useless. He called to Fred, repeated their familiar signals and fired several charges in air, with no more response than at first.
"He has been either killed or carried off by a party of Indians," was the conclusion that forced itself upon him.
And with this conviction came the certainty that it was out of the power of Jack Dudley to do anything for his friend. He might tramp back and forth for nights and days, but with no success, for Fred Greenwood was gone—whither?
Had Jack been skilled in woodcraft, possibly he might have discovered some signs along the valley that would have enlightened him, but he was untrained in the ways of red men and was not equal to the task. A dog that knew how to track a person would have been of immeasurable value, but such a canine was not to be had.
One memory clung tormentingly to the searcher. It was the demoniac face of Motoza, the Sioux, when Fred Greenwood compelled him to return the Winchester of Jack. There could be but one interpretation of that expression, and it boded the worst for the missing youth.