“No, no; stop,” cried Fred.
“It was only a rabbit, sir.”
“Yes, I know; but don’t you see?”
“See what, sir?”
“If there have been rabbits here, it’s a sure sign that Nat is not in his hiding-place.”
“Yes; I didn’t think of that,” said Samson, taking off his steel cap to give his head a scratch. “Never mind, sir; go on. He may have been back and gone out for a walk. It’s just like him; being as awk’ard and contrary as can be.”
Fred hesitated a moment or two, and then, feeling depressed and disappointed, thinking that the poor faithful follower of the Markhams was sharing their misfortunes, and perhaps lying dead hidden among the bushes, he took a step or two further on, pressed the twigs aside, and peered into the verdant tunnel Nat had made his temporary home.
“He is not here,” he said sadly, as he crept in.
“Nor yet been there, sir?”
“No! Yes,” cried Fred, changing his tone from one full of despondency to the very reverse. “He has been here, Samson. The food is all gone.”