We had a few minutes’ conversation with the general, during which he promised to do all in his power to assist us in recovering the lost horse, and then returned home no wiser than we left.
CHAPTER VIII.
A RIDE AFTER THE INDIANS.
When father and I reached home we found our fellows there, and also Mr. Todd and Mr. Dickson, who had come over to spend the evening.
The events of the afternoon had already been thoroughly discussed, but the matter was taken up again when we arrived, and after that the mare’s mysterious disappearance was the chief subject of conversation.
One thing that not a little surprised us, was the coolness, not to say indifference, with which father and his two gentleman friends spoke of the loss I had sustained.
Our fellows went in strong for raising a hue and cry, and making the swamp too hot to hold the thief; but the men shook their heads and said they thought that wouldn’t do. They had tried that in the case of Luke Redman, and what had it amounted to?
The best thing we could do would be to keep our eyes open and our mouths closed, and perhaps in a few days something would turn up in our favor.
At ten o’clock the two gentlemen took their leave, and our fellows went up to bed.
“Now, I’ll jest tell you what’s the matter with me,” said Sandy, when he had settled himself snugly between the sheets. "My name hain’t Micawber, and that’s the reason I don’t believe in waitin’ fur things to ‘turn up.’ I’ll tell you what we’ll do, fellers. If the men won’t help us, we’ll help ourselves. We’ll let our dinner go this once, take to the woods at daybreak, and spend Christmas in lookin’ fur that thar hoss, eh?"
Sandy could not have made a proposition that would have suited me better, or the rest of the fellows either, judging by the readiness with which they agreed to it.