“It’s the least he can do,” remarked Mrs. Dryer. “I do hope nothing has happened to that dun heifer. Those cows never ran away of their own accord.”
If they had only been near enough to Deacon Fuller’s front gate a few minutes later, they could have heard as well as seen.
“You see, boys,” said Zeb, “you’re all to hunt for ’em, but I’m going on horseback, and of course I’ll find ’em.”
“We might, some of us.”
“No, you mightn’t,” responded Zeb. “Bill Jones, you and Hy Allen scout out towards the lake. Take your hooks and lines in your pockets and be gone all day. If you catch any fish, you can give ’em away to somebody.”
“Not if we don’t get back till after dark,” said Hy Allen.
“That’s so,” said Zeb. “Now, the rest of you might try the East hill. I’m going on the North road, over into Rodney.”
“We might go for woodchucks,” suggested one of the smaller boys.
“We might,” said another, “but then the old sweet tree in the Parker’s orchard’s about ripe.”
“That’s it,” said Bill Jones, “and I saw him going through the village this very morning. Both his dogs with him.”