The usual crowd was collected on the beach to witness the arrival, and stepping up to the nearest white man, who happened to be the government inspector, Mr. Ryder handed him a note of introduction from Captain Matthews, saying, at the same time: “These are my credentials, sir; and my excuse for landing here, where I am well aware strangers are not permitted save by authority, is, that I am in search of a lost boy, my son, Philip Ryder by name. I must confess that I am disappointed at not seeing him here, but you can doubtless tell me where to find him.”
A strange silence fell over the little group at these words, which most of them understood; while the inspector turned pale, and the hand, that he held out to Mr. Ryder, trembled.
“This is terrible, sir!” he said, “and I know not how to tell you—”
“What? Has anything happened to my boy? Is he ill? or—or—dead?”
The unhappy father almost choked as he pronounced the last words.
“I hope not, sir! We hope not!” repeated the inspector, in a voice husky with emotion. “All we know is that he is lost, and has been for two weeks past—in fact, both he and his companion disappeared just as the revenue-cutter Phoca, on which they came to the island, left it, and we have been unable to discover a trace of them since, though parties have been out in every direction searching for some clew to the mystery. But come up to my house, gentlemen, and you shall be given all the particulars so far as they are known to us.”
At the word “lost,” Mr. Ryder, strong, self-contained man that he was, had staggered as though struck a heavy blow, and Jalap Coombs, who stood immediately behind him, grasped his arm.
JALAP AND PHIL’S FATHER HEAR BAD NEWS FROM THE BOYS
“Don’t ye give up, sir!” he cried, though even his usually hearty tone was a little shaky. “Your boy Phil ain’t the lad to get lost so as he can’t find hisself, nor into a scrape that he won’t work his way out of somehow, not ef I know him, and I think I do. He’s been lost before and found, same as he will be this time. Why, sir, it wouldn’t surprise me one mite to see him turn up to-morrow bright and smiling. As my old friend Kite Roberson uster say, ‘Them that’s lost the oftenest larns best how to take care of theirselves.’”