The faces of both were grey and haggard, and in their eyes was mirrored the fear that they might never see their eldest son again.
"May the Almighty Father watch over and protect him," prayed the father.
"And bring him back to us alive and well," breathed the mother with quivering lips.
"I wish that I could have gone in his place!" were the words that forced themselves with a groan from the lips of Joshua Peniman. "But I dared not go—in justice to you and the children. I could not leave you here without my protection. But we could not abandon that poor child without making every effort to save her, so Joe had to go. But he is only a lad—it is a long, long trail—a wild and desperate mission——"
"But we, nor he, could not have done otherwise, dear." Hannah Peniman's eyes were dry, her tone steady. "It was a duty that was laid upon us. God will watch over him. He will permit no harm to come to our boy in the discharge of this sacred duty."
Her husband clasped her hand and looked tenderly into her eyes. "Thee is ever my inspiration and comfort, Hannah," he said with quivering voice. "Thy vision is ever more clear than mine, thy faith more fast and true."
She turned her face to him and began to speak, then stopped abruptly and stood listening.
"Hark!" she cried in a startled whisper, "what was that?"
Both stood motionless with heads raised, the fear of an unknown danger upon them.
Then there came to them again the sound that had arrested Hannah Peniman's attention. A low moan, scarcely more than a sigh, came from the tall grass near the side of the dugout.