Charles and Dan had stayed in Albany several days, questioning coach
drivers and making enquiries at all the inns; but no one seemed to
remember Dawn. It happened that the driver with whom she had left
Albany had broken his leg the very day after, so he was not there to be
questioned. Heartsick and despairing, the two young men did not know
what to do. Even Rags was dejected, and whined at having to leave the
boat. Somehow he seemed to think it would bring them to her if they but
stayed by it long enough. He was for going back to New York when the
boat went, and told the others so with a wise bark, but they heeded him
not. He went about snuffing helplessly, and spent much time with his
nose in his paws, one sad blinking eye open to a disappointing world.
They reached the Winthrop home a few hours before Mrs. Van Rensselaer's
letter arrived.
It was Betty who brought the strange, scrawled letter to Charles, and
she wore an anxious look. She had half-hesitated whether she would not
keep it till morning, he looked so tired and worn. These were troublous
times, and no one knew at night but that his dearest friend might be
dead by morning. Betty would have spared her brother if she had dared.
Charles noticed the postmark, and tore the envelope open quickly, some
premonition quickening his heart-beats.
"Dawn is here!"
He read the significant words, then repeated them aloud, his voice
containing a solemn ring of wonder and joy. Could it be true?
"Betty, tell the boy to saddle two horses and have them ready at once.
Dan, you'll go with me, of course.... No, I've no time for supper....
Well, just a cup of hot broth. Or, stay, put some in a bottle, and I'll
take it with me. I might need it on the way.... Are you ready, Dan?
... Tell father, Betty. I'll be downstairs in just a minute."
They were off almost immediately, for the willing servant had hastened
with the horses, and had ready a lantern for their use when the moon
should go down. Betty handed each of them a bottle of hot broth tightly
sealed, to put in their pockets. They rode through the night, silent
for the most part, each gravely apprehensive of what might be at the end
of the journey. It was a strange, abrupt message Charles had received,
and he pondered over and over what its purport might be. Was Dawn sick,
or dead? Why had not Mrs. Van Rensselaer told him more? Perhaps before
he could reach his wife she would be gone again, as before. With this
thought, he hurried his horse. Once he caught a glimpse of a sharp
abyss within a few feet of where he passed. One misstep and the journey
would have ended. Charles marvelled how he was going through unknown
dangers without a thought, just because his heart was full of a great
purpose.
It was in the early morning that they reached the village where the Van
Rensselaers lived.
Rags was tired and splashed with mud. His tail dragged wearily behind
him, his head drooped, and his tongue hung out. He wasn't used to being
up all night, nor to travelling on foot behind fast horses. He thought
his companions must be crazy to come away off here where there was no
scent. How could they expect to know what they were doing in the night?
Rags wanted a good juicy bone, and a rug in a quiet place.
As the two young men turned their horses in at the great gate, the sound
of the hoofs clattered hollowly and echoed back in the empty place.
Rags mounted the steps and sat down, looking disconsolately around. He
did not care for this place, fine though it might be. He was dreadfully
tired. The front door was open, but he had no desire to investigate.
Charles dismounted and went into the house. It struck him as strange
that the front door should be open so early in the morning. He had
noticed the deserted look of this part of the town, and he felt the
chill of fear grip his heart. Had the cholera reached her ahead of him?
Was it in this town? Even in this house?
As Dawn had done, he looked into the empty rooms.
Rags got up and limped to the door after him, snuffed around, and then
suddenly gave a short, sharp bark, and was off with his nose to the
ground. He disappeared among the rose-bushes down the garden-path, and
his young master sprang off his horse and hastened after him.