Duff paid no attention to the remark, save to hold his captive the tighter, but continued to upbraid his companion for failing to secure the “blasted, pious old fool of a Quaker.”
“Ain’t no use jawin’; nobody never did nothin’ what they couldn’t do,” the other man made answer.
“And you, too, Dexter,” John spoke up. “We had a nice visit with Mr. Duff, the other evening, and wished you could have come along. And how is it that Landlord Quilling is not with you?”
CHAPTER XV.
THE SEARCH.
The feelings of Return Kingdom when he saw the Quaker come galloping up to the cabin door, his beloved mare wet with perspiration, and closely followed by their own horse, riderless, were different than he had ever experienced. He had never known the true meaning of fear and never had he known a moment when his courage and hope seemed to desert him so entirely as now.
There flashed upon his mind a picture of John Jerome’s body stretched in the snow as he had seen Quilling’s; of the lone Indian stooping over it to secure the awful trophy of his silent warfare against the whites. With his old-time determination, however, the lad shook off these fearful thoughts, and as Theodore Hatch’s feet touched the ground, was at his side.
“John—?”
Ree could not ask the question in his mind. His voice sunk to a husky whisper.
“Verily, I do not know,” said the Quaker in hushed, frightened tones. “I thought he was on his horse until but a little while ago. An Indian attacked me and I escaped. I thought thy friend was coming on behind till I chanced to look back, a mile from here.”
“Tell me all about it just as quick as you can, Mr. Hatch.” There was pleading and yet an imperative command in Kingdom’s voice.