“Not on your life,” scoffed Tom. “He’s too scary for that.”
All but Dave soon left the building in quest of Mr. Beaumont’s ward. At the stockade they stopped to shout long and earnestly, but, as before, no answering hail was borne on the gentle breeze.
“Depend upon it, he’s up to some funny business,” hinted Tom.
“I declare, I’m beginnin’ to get worried about him.” Cranny leaned against the wall, and looked searchingly over the vast expanse of plain. “What do you think, Bob?”
“That he may be in the house—somewhere down-stairs.”
“But after all this screeching he would have come out.”
“Well, we might as well look.”
It was rather dark in the big room, so Bob lighted one of the swinging lamps which hung over a center table.
“Of course he isn’t anywhere in here,” said Cranny.
A few minutes’ search proved the truth of this assertion.