When they had gone around several times, and had crossed and criss-crossed in obedience to Dorothy’s nod, Herbert brought the boat back to the little landing and helped Dorothy out.
“He isn’t there, Gray Lady. May I go to the doctor?”
“Surely. I’ll go with you. And don’t look so tragic, darling. The boy will certainly be found. There will nothing else be done at San Leon until he is. Both my husband and myself agree on that point—that Jim Barlow’s safety is our first consideration. He will probably be found near at hand, although—”
“Hasn’t he been looked for ‘near at hand,’ then, dear Gray Lady?”
“Certainly. At the beginning. We didn’t think he could have wandered far, yet when they failed to find him on the home-grounds, the searchers spread out in all directions. Here is the doctor coming now, if you wish to speak with him.”
“Thank you, I do.”
The gentleman came toward them and Dorothy ran to meet him.
“Oh! sir, have you found him?”
A negative shake of the head answered her. Then she plied him with all sorts of questions: how long could a sick boy live exposed to the night air, as Jim had been; without food or medicine; and couldn’t he think of some place that nobody else had searched, so she might go and try it?
He laid his hand upon her head and gently asked: