“We'll go to the post office,” said Abner. “There you can buy some paper and a postage stamp. You've got just money enough. There's a pen and ink there.”
“Let us go at once,” said Herbert, eagerly.
The boys took their way to the village. The letter was written and posted, and a burden was lifted from the boy's mind. He felt that his father would seek him out at once, and he could bear his present position for a short time. But, alas! for poor Herbert—the letter never came into his father's hands. Why, the reader will learn in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XXXI — THE HOUSEKEEPER'S CRIME
It is not to be supposed that during this time the family of the missing boy were idle. The mysterious disappearance of his only son filled his father's heart with anguish, and he took immediate steps to penetrate the mystery. Not only was the fullest information given to the police, but an experienced detective connected with a private agency was detailed for the search. The matter also got into the papers, and Herbert, in his Western home, little suspected that his name had already become a household word in thousands of families.
Days passed, and in spite of the efforts that were being made to discover him, no clew had been obtained by Herbert's friends, either as to his whereabouts, or as to the identity of the party or parties hat had abducted him. It is needless to say that Grant heartily sympathized with the afflicted father, and was sad on his own account, for he had become warmly attached to the little boy whose instant companion he had been in his hours of leisure.
The only one in the house who took the matter coolly was Mrs. Estabrook, the housekeeper. She even ventured to suggest that Herbert had run away.
“What do you mean, Mrs. Estabrook?” exclaimed the father, impatiently. “You ought to know my poor boy better than that!”
“Boys are a worrisome set,” returned the housekeeper, composedly. “Only last week I read in the Herald about two boys who ran away from good homes and went out to kill Indians.”