Granny nodded, gulping.
“And the child—they took the baby, too?”
Granny shook her head, pointing a tremulous hand toward the cradle at which she did not look.
“So! They separated my poor lass from her child? The hell hounds! And now, which way? Answer me!” In hysterical impatience he shook her. “Tell me which way they went, up or down stream?”
The old woman gulped and gurgled unintelligibly, and he sprang away as if he could bear no more.
“If you won’t help me, I must go. I’m sorry for you, I will send neighbors—but I must go!”
Granny made a hoarse effort: “Go—where?”
“Where? In God’s name! To find my wife.”
“No use,” croaked Granny.
Ezra cried out. “No use? Don’t, don’t say it, woman! I’ve not lost my wits, or my woodcraft. See, I’m quite steady!” He held out a hand that trembled like a leaf. “There’ll be some trace, we’ll find her. The neighbors are out. We found her before, we shall again—-”