“Were you? Well, be off, and, if you lose yourself, remember that all the slopes lead to the river.”
“Yes. As if any fellow didn’t know that!” said Jack to himself, as he trudged away, very proud, with the bearskin on his back.
CHAPTER XXIX
Carington stood a moment, looking after the boy. Then he readjusted the straps of the knapsack, which he had taken again when Jack had loaded himself with the bearskin, and went rapidly down through the more open forest.
At first he had meant to look quietly about the cabin, hoping to find the place where the children were buried. On reflection, he changed his mind, and determined to go at once to the Colketts’s, for which he had a ready excuse. There was still enough of light, but he had not as yet the least idea where the little graveyard lay. Better, perhaps, he thought, to ask Dorothy, and to return at mid-morning, when Joe would be away. That there was the least peril in his search he did not think, despite Lyndsay’s warning. It had interested him, and he meant to be guided by it so far as to have some other guide than Joe in September. That was all.
At the edge of the clearing he climbed over the snake-fence, and walked at once to the well, being hot and thirsty. Mrs. Colkett, seeing him, came out of the cabin, and met him as he began to lower the bucket. He turned as she came.
“Good evening, Mrs. Colkett. Is Joe about? I have a job for him.”
“He’s ’round somewhere. Joe!” she called, in a high-pitched voice; “Joe!”
The man came from the cow-shed, and joined them at the well.