"I wish I could be sure of that,—God, I wish I could be sure," he said, with a little catch in his gruff voice. "I don't see what got into her to run away like this. She ain't been very chipper since Cale went away, you know. Sort of sick and down in the mouth. Her mother's heard her crying a good bit lately up in her room. I promised her only a couple of days ago to take her up to Chicago for a spell, so's she could see Cale every once in a while. So it can't be she's gone off on her own hook to see him, knowin' that either me or her mother was planning to go up with her next week. Thank you, Courtney, for offering to help us. If there's anything, I'll let you know. We've been telegraphin' and telephonin' everywhere to see if we can get track of her, and we've been to all her friends' homes to ask if they've seen her. I wish, if you feel like it, you'd go over and see Mrs. Vick. Maybe you can cheer her up, encourage her or something. She's terribly worried. I—I think it would break her heart if anything happened to—to—" His lips twisted as with pain. He bent over and picked a burr from his trousers' leg.
"Buck up, old fellow," said Courtney, a ringing note of confidence in his voice. He laid his hand on Vick's arm. "Tell me all about it. When did she leave the house, and where did she say she was going?"
"Yesterday afternoon. She said she was going to spend the night at the Jordans'. She kissed her mother good-bye,—just as she always does,—and we ain't seen or heard anything of her since. Nobody in Windomville saw her. Bill Foss is afraid she may have been waylaid by hoboes down along the river road. If—if THAT happened there'll be something worse than lynchin' if I ever lay hands on—"
Thane broke in with an oath.
"By God, I'll do the job for you if I get hold of him first, Vick. I could set fire to a devil like that and see him burned alive without moving a muscle."
"I can't let myself believe she's met with any such horrible fate as that, Courtney. I simply can't bear to think of my pretty little Rosie in the hands of—"
"Don't think about it, Vick. I believe she will turn up safe and sound and—By the way, has it occurred to you that she may have eloped? Was she in love with anybody? Was she interested in any young fellow that you didn't approve of?"
"She never spoke of being in love with anybody. She never even gave us an inklin' of such a thing. She would have told her mother. Why, good heavens, Courtney, she wasn't much more'n a little girl! She was eighteen her last birthday, and we never thought of her as anything but a child just out of short dresses. Did she ever speak to you about being gone on any of these young fellows that come to see her? She liked you tremendous, Courtney,—and I didn't know but what maybe she might have mentioned something to you about it when you were off on those long walks together. Some of the times when you used to take a lunch basket and go off—"
"Not a word," broke in Courtney. "Why, she was just like a kid, laughing and singing and begging me to tell her stories about the war, and life in New York, and all that sort of thing. She used to read to me, bless her heart,—read by the hour while I smoked,—or went to sleep. If she was in love with anybody she certainly never took me into her confidence."
"I—I guess there's nothing in that theory," said Amos Vick, shaking his head. "She didn't run away with anybody. That's out of the question. I'm working on the theory that she sort of went out of her head or something and wandered away. You read about cases like that in the papers. I forget what they call the disease, but there's—"