“He was gone when I woke up,” called Jack, who had been dressing rapidly. He came out of the tent and began looking about the wagon, tent, and surrounding woods in the persistent fashion of people, who, under like circumstances, feel that although search is useless, action of some kind is an immediate necessity.
“What ever shall we do?” whispered Desiré, tears streaming down her cheeks, when Jack returned from a fruitless search of the nearby places.
“Don’t get excited, dear,” he said, putting his arm around her shoulders. “He could have come to no harm, and I’ll find him all right.”
“But you must have help. Oh, I wish we were near the Riboux family!”
“We’ll drive back into the town to make inquiry, and then see what can be done. I know he’s not around here; for I’ve searched everywhere.”
“The—the brook?” faltered Desiré.
“Yes, I rather thought I might find him playing there. He enjoyed it so much last night,” he added, with a feeble effort at a smile, “but there’s no sign of him. Anyway, the water’s not deep enough to drown a dog, much less a hearty youngster.”
“Jack—the Indians—”
“Now, Desiré, don’t let your imagination run away with you. They’re perfectly harmless.”
“What I mean is, could Renny be with them?”