Then it all came out, the whole miserable story; in broken sentences, with keenest regret now, unhappy Anton told of Molly’s following, of the trick he had played upon her, and of the fact that she was now wandering somewhere in that wild forest alone, save for old Queenie.
But the story was not ended before every member of that startled group was on his feet, ready for search and rescue. Though he could almost have killed the lad where he cowered, so furious was his wrath and terrible his fear, the Judge controlled himself and sternly ordered:
“With me you come, Anton. Close to me you keep and lead me to the last spot where you left my child. If we find her not—”
He did not need to finish his sentence with a threat, nor did he wait for the horse which Merimée made haste to catch and saddle. On foot he started, Anton held by an iron grasp, and they two were out of sight before the others had quite realized that they were even moving.
Old Merimée took charge without question; organizing his little company into bands of two and directing each pair to take a separate route through the woods, but all verging toward the east and the distant farmhouse. He arranged that all, carrying guns, should agree upon certain signals; one shot meant distress, two reports called for reinforcement by the nearest searchers; and three—or a succession of more—good news, that the work had happily ended and the word was: “Back to the camp!”
The old college president took Montmorency as his aide, with the clannish instinct of two New Englanders for one another’s company. Indeed, this odd pair had been almost constant companions since they entered the woods, and the lad had found the alert old man the “jolliest ‘boy’ he had ever chummed with.”
The surgeon called Melvin to share his own search and the merchant strode sturdily forward in the wake of Merimée, the guide; who delayed but long enough to cover the fire and to sling over his shoulder a hunting-horn. He had often used this for four-footed game, and might now as a call to the Judge’s lost daughter. Seeing Merimée do this sent Melvin also back to his tent, yet only for a moment. Then he ran after his partner and disappeared in the gloom of the forest.
Back at Farmer Grimm’s, when Molly rode out of the grounds, there had been none to see her go except one of the maids, drooping with sick-headache against the back porch. Even she had scarcely realized the fact, so absorbed was she by her own physical misery. There her mistress found her and promptly despatched her to her room and bed, until she should recover, and it was not till some hours later that she descended to find the house in a turmoil of search and anxiety. At dinner-time, Mrs. Hungerford had bidden Dorothy to call Molly; adding a warning word:
“Tell her, Dolly dear, that she must come at once. Too often she lingers and keeps Mrs. Grimm waiting. That isn’t right because this household is managed as systematically as your own Academy in school time. Be sure and tell her.”