'Lois,' said Roger, coming to her side, 'trust us; we will do all we can—all that there is to do.'
Half-an-hour later every man about the farm went out into the darkness.
Lois, watching with her mother, saw her father go; Roger's father too—his long ride and his weariness quite forgotten. They walked with deliberate determined steps, and few words.
Far ahead already, Lois could just distinguish Roger—all the young men of the place following him—as he stood for a moment a dim figure against a dark sky. He disappeared, and Lois said in her heart, 'May God go with him.'
Three hours—four hours passed—they must be searching still! None of them returned that night.
About midnight the scattered groups of searchers met together. It was a striking scene.
The setting moon, hung round with inky clouds, cast a pale glimmering of light down on to the snow. All round, the moors lay wild and tumbled, with black shadows here and there, cast by the waning moon.
It was cold, but intensely still, with a hush that gave an impression of breathless expectation.
For a little while the men stood together consulting. Then they separated again, Lois's father heading one party of searchers, while Roger went with the other.
All carried lanterns, and when they had gone a little way in their different directions, each, looking back towards the others, could only see a few shadowy figures gliding on into the darkness.