“We’ll stop at Jerry Duncan’s, on our way to the post of police at the settlement.”
The lads accompanied the policemen outside, and watched them mount and ride away.
As soon as their forms were lost to view behind a rise in the rolling prairie plans were made for the day. It was decided to divide up into searching parties; some to explore the hills, others to ride off into the open country.
And although they continued their task until nightfall not the slightest sign of the missing Rambler could be found.
Supper was eaten in dismal silence. Sunset, twilight and night came on. Lanterns were lighted and again placed in the windows. Monotony and anxiety literally drove the lads to their blankets. But none of them slept well. And in their waking moments the all-absorbing topic was continually discussed.
Morning rolled around. They jumped up unrefreshed, had a cold breakfast, and, following this, horses were saddled. It was impossible to banish from their minds the fear that something might be amiss with Bob.
No longer could the suspense be borne.
Seizing eagerly upon a suggestion made by Dave, Tom wrote a note and placed it on the table.
“Yes, sir—Jerry Duncan’s for us!” he cried. “Gee, fellows! Bob may have gone off in that direction and stopped in to see the ranchman.”
It was a very faint hope, but better than none.