He stepped forward and laid his big hand affectionately on the shoulder of Alden.
“Don’t take it so to heart, younker: thar’s one chance in a hundred that yer young friend, as I ’spose ye call him, is alive.”
“Oh, I hope so, but it is impossible.”
“Not much chance, but thar is one as I obsarved in a hundred. Wait till we git to the next station. It mought be that when he seen things looked squally he slipped off his pony and took to kiver. Not much chance I say, but it may be. Let’s hope till we hyar more.”
Alden took slight comfort from the words of his rough friend, who had little faith himself in them.
Because of this affliction, the train started at an unusually early hour the next morning. It arrived without incident at the next mail station about noon. There they found Mr. Fleming’s party still in camp, but the leader was absent. In answer to Alden’s hurried questions he was told:
“His nephew has been missing since night before last, and he and one of his friends have gone in search of him.”
“And that is what I shall do!” said Alden,
