Through Forest and Fire | Page 9

for they were
bright, cheerful, and obedient, and never gave him any trouble, as did
some of his other pupils. He listened to Nick's story, and his sympathy
was aroused at once.
"I am very sorry," said he, "that your good father and mother, not to
mention yourself, should be so sorely troubled; but I hope this is not
serious. Nellie came to me about three o'clock and asked whether I
would let her go home."
"Was she sick?" asked the distressed brother.
"Not at all; but she said you had gone to Dunbarton in your carriage
and she wanted to meet you coming back. She knew her lessons
perfectly, and Nellie is such a good girl that I felt that I could not refuse
so simple a request. So I told her she could go. I saw her start
homeward with her lunch-basket in one hand and her two school-books
in the other. She stepped off so briskly and was in such cheerful spirits
that I stood at the window and watched her until she passed around the
bend in the road."
Nick felt his heart sink within him, for the words of the teacher had let
in a great deal of alarming truth upon him.
Nellie had reached the forks two hours ahead of him, and then, not
wishing to sit down and wait, she had started up the road in the
direction of Dunbarton to meet him. She must have entered the eight
mile stretch of woods from the south about the same time Nick himself
drove into it on his return from Dunbarton.
The two should have met near Shark Creek, but neither had seen the
other. Nick, as a matter of course, had kept to the road, but what had
become of Nellie?

This was the question the lad put to himself, and which caused him to
feel so faint that he sank down in a chair unable to speak for a minute
or two. Then, when he tried to do so, he had to stop, and was kept busy
swallowing the lump that would rise in his throat, until finally the tears
suddenly appeared, and, putting his hands to his eyes, he gave way to
his grief.
"There, there," said Mr. Layton soothingly, "don't cry, Nick, for it will
do no good. Nellie has strayed off in the woods to gather flowers or
perhaps wild grapes and has missed her way."
"She--is--lost--poor--Nellie!" said the lad as best he could between his
sobs; "we'll never see her again."
"Oh, it isn't as bad as that! I suppose she has grown weary, and, sitting
down to rest, has fallen asleep."
If the good teacher meant this to soothe the lad, it had the contrary
effect, for the picture of his little sister wandering alone in the woods
was one of the most dreadful that could be imagined, and it took all the
manhood of his nature to keep from breaking down again.
While the interview was under way, Mr. Layton was busy changing his
slippers for his boots, his wrapper for his coat, and his hat was donned
just as he spoke the last words.
His sympathy did not expend itself in talk, but the instant he saw what
the trouble was he was eager to do all he could to help his suffering
friends. He even reproached himself for having given Nellie permission
to meet her brother, though no matter what harm may have befallen her,
no one could blame her instructor therefor.
"We must hunt for her," said Mr. Layton, when he was ready to go out;
"I will tell my sisters they need not be alarmed over my absence, and I
guess I will take the lantern with me."
Nick passed out to the front gate, where he waited a minute for the
teacher, until he should speak with his friends and get the lantern ready.

When he came forth, the boy felt much like the patient who sees the
surgeon take out his instruments and try their edge to make sure they
are in condition before using upon him.
The sight of the lantern in the hand of Mr. Layton gave such emphasis
to the danger that it caused another quick throb of Nick's heart, but he
forced it down as the two started back over the road, toward the
school-house.
"There is no need of lighting the lantern until we get to the woods,"
said the teacher, "for we don't need it, and I hope we won't need it after
we reach the forest. Poor Nellie! she will feel dreadfully frightened,
when she wakes up in the dark forest."
He regretted the words, for the two or three sobs that escaped the
brother, before he could master himself, showed that his heart was