A FRUITLESS QUEST
“Grace! Oh, Grace!”
After several hours of hard work assisting the women of the village
to untangle the confusion of their homes, the contents of most of
which were in the streets, Nora came running in search of Grace
Harlowe.
“What is wrong, Nora?” begged Grace a little fearfully.
“Have you seen Stacy?”
“No. Come to think of it, I have not. Why, I haven’t seen him since
last night, either.”
“Neither has anyone else, so far as I have been able to learn.”
“Are you positive that he did not go out with the men this morning?”
asked Grace.
“They say he did not.”
“Chunky”—as his companions sometimes called him—“is probably asleep
somewhere about,” suggested Emma Dean. “You know what a wonderful
sleeper he is.”
“I doubt it,” answered Grace reflectively. “Was he in the creek?”
Nora said she did not know.
“That makes two of our party that are missing. What are we going to
do?” begged Nora, tears of anxiety springing to her eyes.
“We will search for him in the vicinity of the village. That is all
we can do. If we do not find him we simply shall have to wait until
the men return to-night,” decided Grace.
“If Hamilton were only here he would know what is best,” complained
Emma.
Grace gave her a look of rebuke.
“Mr. White probably will find the boy. He will leave nothing undone,
of that we girls are certain, and we shall have to make the best of
a bad situation, which may not be nearly so bad as it seems,”
comforted Grace. “Come, let us take different directions and search
the village and its immediate vicinity.”
“I have another one to demonstrate over now. I don’t want to
demonstrate over Chunky, but I suppose it wouldn’t be honest not
to,” complained Emma. “This is terrible.”
The girls separated and made a careful search about the village and
out among the trees, as far from the village as they dared to go.
There were still many little smouldering fires, but there was so
little for them to feed upon that they could not spread.
Not a trace of the missing boy did the girls find, though there was
plenty of tragic evidence of the deadly work of the forest fire
everywhere they went. The girls returned, giving up the task.
“We must wait, and go on with our work. It will help to keep our
minds from our worries. My husband would be a great comfort if he
were here, for Tom is ever ready and resourceful,” murmured Grace.
“He is no better than Hamilton,” protested Emma indignantly. “What
Hamilton doesn’t know about everything up here isn’t worth knowing.”
The girls laughed at Emma, who turned away, face flushed and eyes
moist. They busied themselves all the rest of the day, but when
night came on, the searchers had not returned. Shortly after nine
o’clock, however, a shout told the anxious Overlanders that someone
was approaching. It proved to be Hippy Wingate and his party. Hippy
reported that they had not found a trace of Elfreda Briggs. He was
shocked when he learned that Stacy also was missing.
It was an hour later when Hamilton White and his party of searchers
came in. They were leading a bunch of horses.
“We got them all but one, folks,” he cried as the villagers and the
Overlanders crowded about him and his party.
“But Miss Briggs!” wailed Nora Wingate. “Don’t tell me that—”
“She was not found on the left-hand side of the river. We followed
Roaring River down to a point about fifteen miles below here. As you
see, we got all the mounts but one, and that one evidently was swept
away, else he would have been with his mates.”
White was speaking more rapidly than was his wont, and Grace was
regarding him keenly.
“Did you know that Stacy Brown is missing also?” she asked.
The guide regarded her for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “Don’t be disheartened, Mrs. Gray.
To-morrow I shall take the other side of the river and stay out
until I get a definite line on what has happened. It would have been
useless to remain out longer to-night.”
After a little, when he had answered many questions, White beckoned
Grace aside.
“You are a level-headed woman, Mrs. Gray, so I think it best to tell
you what I have discovered. I—”
“I knew you were keeping something back. Tell me. The truth is
better than the suspense.”
“No, I don’t agree with you. I found Miss Briggs’ hat and her
handkerchief on my side of the river. The men with me do not know
this. The current on my side of the stream set into a bend at one
point, then switched over to the right-hand side. That is why I am
going down the right-hand side to-morrow. To me the finding of the
hat is proof that our missing woman was really swept downstream, but
my confidence in Miss Briggs’ cool-headedness is so strong that I
believe she found a way to get out of the river.”
“I hope so,” replied Grace quietly. “By the same token, I think we
shall find Stacy. If he succeeds in finding something to eat, he
will remain where the food is until it is exhausted,” she added with
a little smile.
“Just so,” agreed the guide. “I am more disturbed about possible
peril to Miss Briggs after she escaped from the river.”
“Meaning what?” demanded Grace.
“That there is danger to the north of us—a peril worse than forest
fires or wild beasts.”
“Yes, yes!” urged Grace.
“I mean the Murrays.”
Grace said she never had heard of them.
“They are notorious bandits, cutthroats, robbers, everything that is
vicious. Did Miss Briggs wear any jewels?”
“She did—a diamond ring that is quite valuable, and a jewelled watch
that was presented to her by the French government after she
finished her work there with our college unit in the war.”
“They would kill for less than that!” was the disturbing
announcement of Hamilton White, as he turned abruptly away.
Ham White did not wait until morning to resume his search. After
taking a light supper, and packing some “grub” in his kit bag, he
quietly forded the creek with one of the Overland ponies, then
disappeared in the darkness, headed downstream. Only Lieutenant
Hippy Wingate knew that he had gone. Ham White was headed towards an
adventure that proved to be a thrilling one, both for himself and
others.