Then they heard her call again, but there was no reply. “Where’s Shanter, Rifle?” she cried.
“I don’t know, aunt. I’ve not seen him since I had my sleep. He was squatting just here before I went to lie down.”
German had not seen him since. Nobody had seen him since. The last every one had seen of him was when he was seated on his heels with his spear across his knees.
“Asleep somewhere,” said Uncle Jack. “Go on with your suppers, good folks. I’ll soon find him.”
“Don’t go away from round the house, Jack,” cried the captain, anxiously.
“No. Trust me,” was the reply; and the meal went on till Uncle Jack came back to say that Shanter was nowhere in sight.
The announcement sent a chill through all, and the question was discussed in whispers whether he had crept away to reconnoitre, and been surprised by the enemy and speared.
There was no more appetite that evening, and the remains of the meal were cleared away, with the captain and Uncle Jack standing outside reconnoitring in turns with the glass, sweeping the edge of grove and scrub, and seeing no danger, only that the cattle were quietly grazing a little, and then, after a few mouthfuls, edging farther away.
“Seen anything of him, father?” said Rifle, eagerly.
“No,” was the sharp reply.