“I can’t imagine,” said Agnes, almost in tears.
“Neither can I,” growled the boy, staring around the field. “Now, don’t turn on the sprinkler, Aggie. Chirk up. Of course, nothing really bad has happened to them.”
“Why hasn’t there?” choked Agnes.
“Well, how could there? Right here almost in sight of the road. You girls would have heard them if they had cried out——”
“Do you think they’ve been carried off—stolen—kidnapped? Oh, Neale O’Neil! do you?” almost shrieked Agnes.
“Oh, stop it, you little goose—stop it,” begged the boy. “Of course not.”
“Goose yourself——”
“No; gander,” said Neale O’Neil, determined now not to let Agnes see how serious he felt the disappearance of Tess and Dot was. “Now, Aggie, you stay here while I run around a bit and see what I can find.”
He started off, Tom Jonah going too. The hot sun had almost immediately destroyed any scent the children may have left as they passed; and although the old dog understood very well what the matter was—that his two little mistresses had disappeared—he could find the trail no better than could Neale and Agnes.
Neale ran, shouting, toward the far end of the pasture. Almost at once he and the barking dog started something.