“No,” he said grimly. “The fellow didn’t dare to tackle me, I reckon. If I had caught him at it I would have strangled him. Father, how is it with you?”
“I am all right, Tom.”
“Then he didn’t get much outside of the horse. But that’s a serious enough loss. Poor Dobbin!”
“If I only knew which way he went,” said Tom slowly.
But this was not clear. There was nothing to do but to get ready for the day’s march, and set out. The loss of Dobbin made it necessary that all should walk except Mrs. Cooper, who sat in the wagon.
They had been about three hours on the way when a tramping sound was heard, and Dobbin came running up to the party, whinnying with joy.
“There’s nothing amiss with him,” said Tom joyfully. “I wonder how he got away from the man that stole him. Are you glad to get back, old fellow?”
There could be no doubt on that point, for the horse seemed content and happy.
“Where’s old Silverthorn, I wonder?” said Tom.
The question was soon to be answered.