Those were the first words that Pat spoke, and he spoke them in hurried, anxious tones.
“Phil!” cried Bart. “Why, don’t you know?”
“Hasn’t he got back yit?” said Pat, with something like a wail.
“No,” said Bart, as a dark feeling of apprehension came to him.
“Och, thin,” cried Pat, “it’s fairly heart-broke I am, so I am; and no one knows what I’ve suffered this blissed day. Sorra one o’ me knows what has become of him. An I’ve been scourin the whole country back’ards an for’ards, an yellin meself hoarse, so that I can’t utther one blissed howl more, so I can’t.”
At these startling words, all Pat’s anxiety and more communicated itself to Bart. He hastily questioned Pat about Phil’s disappearance.
“We wint down,” said Pat, “for iver so far, an we came to one of the foinest holes iver was. We fished there a half hour an more, and thin Phil says, says he, ‘I’ll go, says he, over beyont,’—for there was a moighty big rock jist forninst us. So he wint for to climb the rock, and he says, ‘I’m goin furder down,’ says he. So I thought no more about it, but wint on wid me fishin. It wasn’t for iver so long that I thought of him; but at last I begins to fail anxious, and wondhers to meself what iver have become of him. So I started off. I didn’t climb over the big rock, as he did, but crossed the sthraim and wint down the other side. Well, I couldn’t see a sign of him. I called, an yelled, an howled, an walked iver so far down an back agin; an that same I’ve been doin iver since, till I thought, at last, he might have somehow got back here. An he ain’t here.”
This story caused terrible anxiety. Bart at once started down the stream, and reached a high, rocky bank covered with trees. He stood here and called. It was now too dark to see much. His calls awaked no response. He then returned, full of the most anxious fears, with a faint hope that he might find Phil on his return.
But on his return there was no Phil to be seen.