“We’ve got to go about this thing mighty careful,” warned the doctor. “You trail me and somebody’ll be shot. Mebbe it’ll be me, mebbe it’ll be your baby.”
The father halted before the younger man. “But how can you help him,” he demanded, “with your hands tied?”
“Wal, I’ve thought of a scheme. The man that come after me searched me for a pistol both nights. But he’s never looked into the oat-bag. So, I’ll put a gun in that bag, and when I stand up from feedin’ Bobby I’ll have the drop on him.”
“He may get you first. Then what? Oh, I’ll never see my boy again!”
“Wal, if you can think of a better way, go ahead.”
But at the end of an hour Eastman agreed with the doctor that there was no better plan. “All right,” he said, “—all right—I’ll trust to you. Now I must telephone my wife that there’s hope.”
When the doctor awoke early that afternoon it was to learn that Mrs. Eastman had arrived and was at the hotel. Eastman himself called the doctor up to announce her coming and the latter asked the parents to remain secluded during the remainder of the day.
There was reason to believe that the kidnappers might have a confederate on watch in the town.
But Eastman had no thought beyond the finding of his child. “Suppose that sick man died to-day,” he said. “Won’t the other man leave and take Laurie with him? Doctor, I think I ought to start fifty men out on a search.”
The doctor opposed the suggestion. “Take my advice,” he urged kindly. “Tell Mrs. Eastman to be brave.”