‘Oh, of course it is possible that a California lion or a wild-cat might come down to the brook to drink—they have been killed hereabouts—but I hardly believe it is likely; and neither do I believe they would be apt to hurt him, any way, for he would never attack them, you know. What I am afraid of is that he has tumbled over the rocks somewhere in climbing, or tangled himself up in the chaparral. He couldn’t have made off with a pistol, could he? He is up to all such tricks.’ Presently the cañon began to echo with strange sounds, which I have no doubt sent the owls, birds, and rabbits into fits of terror; for the boys had whistles and pistols, while Polly had taken a tin pan and a hammer. She had gone with Phil out behind the thicket of manzanita bushes, and they both stood motionless, undecided where to go. ‘Oh, Phil, I can’t help it; I must cry, I am so frightened. Let me sit down a second. Yes, I know it’s an ant-hill, and I shouldn’t care if it were a hornets’ nest—I deserve to be stung. What do you think I said to Margery this morning? That Dicky was a perfect little marplot, and spoiled all our fun, and I wished he were in the bottom of the Red Sea; and then I called him a k-k-k-ill-joy!’ and Polly buried her head in her blue Tam, and cried a good, honest, old-fashioned cry. ‘There, chirk up, poor little soul, and don’t you fret over a careless speech, that meant nothing at all. I’ve wished him in the Red Sea more than once, but I’m blessed if I ever do it again. Come, let’s go over yonder, where we caught the young owl; Dicky may have wanted to try that little game again.’ So they went on, calling, listening, then struggling on again, more anxious every moment, but not so thoroughly dazed as Bell, who had rocked her baby-brother in his cradle, and to whom he was the embodiment of every earthly grace, if not of every heavenly virtue. ‘I might have known this would happen,’ she said, miserably. ‘He is so careless that, if we ever find him again, we must keep him tied to something.’ ‘Take care of your steps, dear,’ said Geoff, ‘and munch this cracker, or you won’t have strength enough to go on with me. I wish it were not getting so dark; the moment the sun gets behind these mountain-tops the light seems to vanish in an instant.—Dick-y!’ ‘Think of the poor darling out in this darkness—hungry, frightened, and alone,’ sighed Bell. ‘It’s past his bed-time now. Oh, why did we ever come to stay in this horrible place!’ ‘You must not blame the place, dear; we thought it the happiest in the world this morning. Here we are by the upper pool, and the path stops. Which way had we better go?’ ‘I’ve been here before to-day,’ said Bell; ‘we might follow the trail I made. But where is my string? Light a match, Geoff, please.’ ‘What string? What do you mean?’