CHAPTER XII
THE SECOND QUEST
The dew lay thick and white on the grass; hips and haws made bright splashes of colour in the early morning sunlight; the robins sang, the larks soared, the woodpeckers tapped—but Danny noticed none of them. With his hands behind him and his head bent, he walked across the field, deep in thought.
Last night, with the pale moon and the red glow of the fire, and the tramp’s sad story, all seemed like a strange dream. And what he had said, himself, seemed like a dream too, for he had promised the tramp that he would undertake to find his lost daughter.
Somehow he felt so sure that he was meant to do so. He had asked the tramp to stay in the deserted cottage for the night, and promised to have a pow-wow the next day as to how they should commence the search.
But in the morning light things did not seem so possible and easy. After all, it was seven years ago that the girl had vanished. She had been stolen, too, by malicious people; and the scene of the plot against the artist was many miles away.
The police and the court had been fooled by the gang of forgers, and had refused to make any inquiries about the artist’s little girl. It would be a hopeless quest for a Scout to start asking questions about an ex-convict’s past. What on earth could Danny say to the tramp?
He had reached Prior’s Wood, and still no idea had occurred to him. All he could think of was that they should get their poor friend to stay there awhile, and recover his strength and his spirits. It might be possible, then, to get him work or perhaps he would feel able to begin painting again, and get a job in that line.
When Danny reached the cottage the tramp was sitting outside it in the sun. His hair was all wet from his wash in the stream. He looked, somehow, quite happy, and he seemed so absorbed in his own day-dreams that he did not notice Danny as he came up, until he said “Good morning!”
“Hullo, Danny!” he replied. “I’ve slept better on your bracken bed than I’ve done for many years. And I’ve dreamed—oh, such lovely dreams! All about my little Mariette. I feel quite happy again. It’s made me long to paint again, and I’ve been finding no end of pictures in this wood, ever since sunrise!”
Danny laughed, but he felt more like crying inside. There was so little chance of finding the girl, and yet the tramp was beginning to count on it as if it was already done.