"Dying," returned Mr. Harwood, emphatically.
Guy waited to hear no more, but darted forward, reaching the camp some minutes before his companions. He saw that several in the train were up, and some called after him, asking where he had been. Without stopping to answer them, he ran on to Mrs. Harwood's wagon, and seeing it all alight within, sprang to the front, and hastily putting the canvas door aside, asked how the baby was.
His mother came over to him, crying and wringing her hands—
"Oh, Guy!" she cried, "where have you been? How wicked you were to leave us so, when the baby was dying!"
Guy knew not what to say—he had no excuse to offer, for he never thought of putting the blame on George. He, therefore, kept silent, and in a most miserable state of mind, followed Mr. Harwood and his sons to the camp.
Gus kept close to his father all the way, crying out every minute or two that he saw another panther, and at last asking how it was that their absence from camp was discovered.
"The baby was very ill," answered Mr. Harwood, gravely. "He was in convulsions, and your mother wanted to put him in a hot bath. I went to call Guy to help us, and then found you were gone."
"And what did you do then?" asked Gus.