“I’ll forge ahead and see if there is running water in the little valley yonder,” said John. “If there is, we need go no further.”
Hastening forward, he came to the edge of the hill sloping down to the shallow gully of which he had spoken. He heard the trickle and splash of a stream of water, and in another moment would have turned to go back, but his quick eye caught the outlines of a horse’s flank among some low bushes near the brook, and he paused.
Carefully he watched but the animal did not stir. Ree was not more than a hundred yards away, and hurrying to him, John told of the discovery.
“It must be our Britisher,” said Kingdom, thoughtfully, “so few of the Indians have horses. But we will soon find out. Come on.”
Leaving their cart where it was, for Neb could be trusted not to run away, the boys walked with as great a show of unconcern as possible down into the valley. They took pains to speak to each other in tones moderately loud, as though they were looking only for a place to camp, hoping to attract the stranger’s attention. But their approach seemed entirely unnoticed. They could see only the flanks and back of the horse which was standing among the low bushes, and were somewhat surprised to notice that the animal was saddled. So perfectly still did the creature stand, too, they were puzzled more and more.
Suddenly the horse raised its head, looked backward with great, sorrowful eyes for a moment, then with a low, pitiful whinny turned and trotted toward the boys.
“Something’s wrong here,” said Kingdom, beneath his breath. “My goodness, I hope—”
The sentence was cut short by John speaking to the dapple gray that had now come close up to them, plainly doing its best to talk.
“Show us what it is—what’s the matter, old fellow?” said Jerome, patting the horse’s forehead.
Kingdom did not wait for an answer to his companion’s question, but stepped quickly forward among the underbrush. He pushed his way through to a small, clear space beside the stream, and as he reached it a little cry of surprise and dismay escaped him. Then swift as a deer he leaped to the center of the open space, and in another instant was kneeling beside the body of—Theodore Hatch, the Quaker.