“But—but where shall we look?” murmured Ruth.
“Mamma will scold us dreadfully if we come home without daddy,” sobbed Margy.
Luke and Neale, as well as Ruth and Agnes, had become much troubled. It was evident that the Pendleton children had been so startled by their father’s fall and subsequently so frightened by his being unconscious, perhaps dead, that they knew very little of the course they had taken through the woods. They had run, crying and shouting, without any regard as to paths or directions. And now to locate the place where the accident had occurred was going to be difficult.
“What shall we do, Luke?” demanded Ruth of the young collegian.
But it was Agnes, with her complete trust in Neale, who hit upon the more direct scheme to solve the problem. She exclaimed:
“Neale O’Neil! You’re so awfully smart, why don’t you find out where the poor man is? You have said there isn’t a place about this part of the country that you haven’t tramped through. Can’t you identify the spot where these poor kiddies left their daddy?”
“Good idea, Aggie,” said the boy. “Wait. Give me a chance to cross-question them. Here, little folks, don’t cry any more. Stop crying and answer a few questions, and I promise to find your father.”
His assurance impressed the frightened Pendletons, small as they were. Margy and Reginald ceased their tears, at least.
“I don’t know where we were when it happened,” said Margy doubtfully.
“Now, just wait,” said Neale. “Tell me first of all where you live?”