Should she avoid all these dangers; should she elude the fierce Apache, the gray wolf and grizzly bear; should she be fortunate enough to discover water, a thing scarcely possible, there was another danger to be dreaded—hunger.
She was not armed, and procuring food on the barren plain, without the necessary weapons, was impossible. She could procure no food from the herbage—it was scant, dry and short. She was undoubtedly in a desperate predicament.
Mr. Wheeler revolved these several contingencies in his mind, and grew sad and moody. Carpenter noticed his dejection, and though anxious and sad himself, endeavored to cheer him.
“Come, cheer up,” he said, laying his hand upon his shoulder. “The case may not be so desperate after all. While there is life there is hope, you know.”
“Sam, I know you can sympathize with me—you are the only one who can appreciate my agony, for it is positive agony. To think of the dear child, heaven knows where, suffering and heart-sick, almost distracts me. Sam, I fear the worst.”
“Come, sir, come; you must not talk like that. She only rode away after a rabbit—she, mayhap, has become confused, perhaps lost. But the sorrel mustang is sagacious, and doubtless ere this is scenting back toward us. I know he will come back if she will give him his head.”
“A thing she will not think of doing,” replied Mr. Wheeler. “If she is lost, she is lost, indeed—there is no end to this vast plain.”
“But she must have left a trail, and with two such famous men as Cimarron Jack and Simpson, we can surely trail her. Those two men are prodigies, sir—they are famous even among their fellow-countrymen. Cheer up, sir—see, they are ready to start. Shall I saddle your horse, sir?”
“If you will, Sam. I am so perplexed I am fit for nothing.”
“I will do it, sir. Take my word for it, sir, we will soon find her.”