"If any one did that"—he faltered—"why, boys, he never should have let me find him in the brush."
"Are you plum dead sure he's went?" insisted the blacksmith, whom the news had somewhat stunned.
"I thought perhaps you fellows might have played a joke—taken him off to see me run around," said Jim, with a faint attempt at a smile. "'Ain't you got him, boys—all the time?"
"Aw, no, he'd be too scared," said Bone. "We know he'd be scared of any one of us."
"It ain't so much that," said Field, "but I shouldn't wonder if his father, or some other feller just as good, came and took him off."
"Of course his father would have the right," said Jim, haltingly, "but—I wish he hadn't let me find him first. You fellows are sure you ain't a-foolin'?"
"We couldn't have done it—not on Sunday—after church," said Lufkins.
"No, Jim, we wouldn't fool that way."
"You don't s'pose that Parky might have took him, out of spite?" said
Jim, eager for hope in any direction whatsoever.
"No! He hates kids worse than pizen," said the barkeep, decisively.
"He's been a-gamblin' since four this afternoon, dealin' faro-bank."
"We could go and search every shack in camp," suggested a listener.