Waroonga glanced quickly at his wife. The excessive agitation of her bonnet told its own tale. The missionary threw Joseph overboard directly, proclaimed a holiday, and rushed out of the school-house.
“No use to go home, massa,” cried Ebony; “we’s sarch eberywhere dar; no find her.”
“Has you been to the piggery?” demanded the anxious father, who was well aware of his child’s fondness for “little squeakers.”
“Oh, yes; bin dar. I rousted out de ole sow for make sure Zariffa no hides behind her.”
At this juncture Orlando came up with a sack of cocoa-nuts on his back. Hearing what had occurred he took the matter in hand with his wonted energy.
“We must organise a regular search,” he said, throwing down the sack, “and go to work at once, for the day is far advanced, and we can do little or nothing after dark.”
So saying he collected all the able men of the village, divided them into bands, gave them minute, though hurried, directions where they were to go, and what signals they were to give in the event of the child being found; and then, heading one of the bands, he joined eagerly in the search. But, before going, he advised Betsy Waroonga to keep his mother company, as women could not be of much use in such work.
“No,” said Mrs Waroonga, with decision; “we will go home an’ pray.”
“Right, that will be better,” said Orlando. “You go back with her, Ebony, and fetch my gun. I left it in Waroonga’s house when I went in for a sack to hold the cocoa-nuts. It is behind the door. You’ll find me searching in the palm-grove. Now, boys, away; we’ve no time to lose.”
Returning to her house with her sable attendant, poor Betsy rushed into her private apartment threw herself on her knees and half across her lowly bed in an agony of alarm.