Yes, there was no mistake about the little affair; Barney Shea was missing.
Dwight and Frank Reade were much surprised; but their wondering did not throw any light upon the whereabouts of the rollicking Irishman.
Frank searched through his wagon, in the vain hope that Barney might be playing a trick upon them, but the jolly fellow was not hiding.
As Frank made his hasty examination, he uttered a cry of surprise.
“This is funny,” he said.
“What?” asked Jared.
“Barney’s fiddle is gone!”
“That is strange,” said Dwight. “Really, it does seem as though he walked off on his own hook.”
“But that he would not do,” said Frank. “He isn’t that sort of a sardine. It is impossible to find out anything now, so we must be content to wait for daylight to tell us something.”
And all this time the Irishman was riding away over the plains on the back of a galloping horse, his legs tied under his back, and his darling fiddle in his hands.