I know she is; or else a bear's eaten her
up. She said she'd be back in an hour. And here's her watch,"--opening
his little hot hand, in which he had held the watch tight through all
his running,--"she gave it to me to hold till she came back. And she
said it would be five; and I stayed till seven, and she never came; and
a man brought me home." And Raby flung himself on the floor, crying
convulsively.

His father and mother tried to calm him, and to get a more exact account
from him of what had happened; but, between their alarm and his
hysterical crying, all was confusion.

Presently, the man entered who had brought Raby home in his wagon. He
was a stranger to them all. His narrative merely corroborated Raby's,
but threw no light on what had gone before. He had found the child on
the main road, running very fast, and crying aloud. He had asked him to
jump into his wagon; and Raby had replied: "Yes, sir: if you will whip
your horse and make him run all the way to my house? My auntie's drowned
in the lake;" and this was all the child had said.

Poor Raby! his young nerves had entirely given way under the strain of
those hours of anxious waiting. He had borne the first hour very well.
When the watch said it was five o'clock, and Hetty was not in sight, he
thought, as she had hoped he would, that she was searching for the
shawl; but, when six o'clock came, and her boat was not in sight, his
childish heart took alarm. He ran to the shanty where the old boatman
lived; and pounded furiously on the door, shouting loud, for the man was
very deaf. The door was locked; no one answered. Raby pushed logs under
the windows, and, climbing up, looked in. The house was empty. Then the
little fellow jumped into the only boat which was there, and began to
row out into the lake in search of Hetty.

Alas! the boat leaked so fast that it was with difficulty he got back to
the shore. Perhaps, if Hetty, from her hiding-place, had seen the dear,
brave child rowing to her rescue, it might have been a rescue indeed. It
might have changed for ever the current of her life. But this was not to
be. Wet and chilled, and clogged by his dripping shoes, Raby turned
towards home. The woods were dark and full of shadows. The child had
never been alone in them at night before; and the gloom added to his
terrors. His feet seemed as if they would fail him at every step, and
his sobbing cries left him little breath with which to run.

Jim and Sally tur