"Yes," Harrison Miller said simply.

But David was resentful, too. When his friends were in trouble he wanted

to know about it. He was somewhat indignant and not a little hurt. But

he soon reverted to Dick.

"I'll go back and send him off for a rest," he said. "I'm as good as

I'll ever be, and the boy's tired. What's the bee in Wheeler's bonnet?"

"Look here, David, you know your own business best, and Wheeler didn't

feel at liberty to tell me very much. But he seemed to think you were

the only one who could tell us certain things. He'd have come himself,

but it's not easy for him to leave the family just now. Dick went away

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just after Jim's funeral. He left a young chap named Reynolds in his

place, and, I believe, in order not to worry you, some letters to be

mailed at intervals."

"Went where?" David asked, in a terrible voice.

"To a town called Norada, in Wyoming. Near his old home somewhere. And

the Wheelers haven't heard anything from him since the day he got there.

That's three weeks ago. He wrote Elizabeth the night he got there, and

wired her at the same time. There's been nothing since."

David was gripping the arms of his chair with both hands, but he forced

himself to calmness.

"I'll go to Norada at once," he said. "Get a time-table, Harrison, and

ring for the valet."

"Not on your life you won't. I'm here to do that, when I've got

something to go on. Wheeler thought you might have heard from him. If

you hadn't, I was to get all the information I could and then start.

Elizabeth's almost crazy. We wired the chief of police of Norada

yesterday."

"Yes!" David said thickly. "Trust your friends to make every damned

mistake possible! You've set the whole pack on his trail." And then he

fell back in his chair, and gasped, "Open the window!"

When Lucy came in, a half hour later, she found David on his bed with

the hotel doctor beside him, and Harrison Miller in the room. David was

fighting for breath, but he was conscious and very calm. He looked up at

her and spoke slowly and distinctly.

"They've got Dick, Lucy," he said.

He looked aged and pinched, and entirely hopeless. Even after his heart

had quieted down and he lay still among his pillows, he gave no evidence

of his old fighting spirit. He lay with his eyes shut, relaxed and

passive. He had done his best, and he had failed. It was out of his

hands now, and in the hands of God. Once, as he lay there, he prayed. He

said that he had failed, and that now he was too old and weak to fight.

That God would have to take it on, and do the best He could. But he

added that if God did not save Dick and bring him back to happiness,

that he, David, was through.




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