“But just suppose we got turned around in this snow?” Mildred objected, turning her head to watch the flakes falling thicker every moment. “Did you ever see it snow so hard, Lettie?”
“Lots of times—sure. Don’t be a ’fraid cat, Milly.”
The doctor’s daughter kept her fears to herself thereafter. Mr. Parker produced a vacuum bottle filled with hot milk. He had been thoughtful enough to supply himself with that before leaving the house for this long ride. The hot drink helped the girls immensely.
“Now I can stand anything,” declared Lettie, happily. “When are we going to be called into action by the sheriff, Pa?”
“He does seem a long time; doesn’t he?” returned her father, as the horses stamped, and shook their heads, and tinkled the bells on the harness.
Finally they heard a door shut, and in a moment Sheriff Kimball appeared. He looked pretty serious in the light of the sleigh lamps.
“What do you know about that?” he said, crossly. “They swear Harry hasn’t been here, and invited me to search the house for him. And I did it, too. I’ve got it in for that boy, when I do catch him. He’s only scared; but he knows more hide-outs in the wild country between here and Barnegat than anybody else. He’s run wild in the woods most of his life.
“He left a message for me, though. Tells me to go to Island Number One and see the dummy. Now, I’ve been there—twice. I couldn’t find hide nor hair of that boy either time.”
“We might stop going back?” suggested Mr. Parker.
“I mean to. But, I declare! it’s come on to snow hard.”