In the mean time, neighbor Hedden himself was having but sorry sport in the forest.  He saw nothing worth even pointing his gun at, and felt altogether so ill at ease and so fidgety as he trudged along, stepping now upon the soft moss, and now upon fallen branches that crackled even under the stealthy tread of his hunting moccasins, that I doubt whether half the bears hidden in the depths of the forest were not in a livelier mood than he.  Not that he had anything to make him feel especially ill-humored, unless it was the disobedience of his children in having failed to appear at dinner-time—­but it seemed to him that there was something going wrong in the world, some screw loose in his affairs that, unless he turned it tight in time, would cause his happiness and the prosperity of his home to fall in ruins about him.  After awhile this feeling became so strong that he seated himself upon a stone to think.

“I haven’t been as neighborly as I might have been,” he reflected:  “there’s many a turn been wanting by these new-comers, the Morrises, that I might have tended to, if I hadn’t been so wrapped up in my own affairs.  Come to think, almost the only kindness I’ve done for nearly a year past was in giving a bag of potatoes to that sick fellow, Po-no-kah, who seemed to me to be a good fellow, as Indians go.  However, it ain’t much kindness to give to those murderous red-skins when there’s plenty of white men wanting help.  Well, if I’m not agoin’ to shoot anything, I guess I’d better go home.”

With these last words, uttered half aloud, neighbor Hedden arose, and walked a few steps in the direction of his home.  Presently he paused again, muttering to himself—­

“It’s blamed queer I haven’t heard the youngsters coming down with the scow; I certainly should have heard them if they’d passed anywhere near—­guess I’d best walk on a little way up stream.”

So saying, he turned, with a new anxiety upon his countenance, and moved with rapid strides toward the rivulet, that still ran rippling on, though the bright sparkles that lit its surface at noon had vanished.  Indeed, by this time the sunshine was, fast vanishing, too, for heavy clouds were gathering overhead, while those in the west were gilded on their lower edge.

IV.

The search.

Neighbor Hedden, now intent upon his new thoughts, hurried along the bank of the stream.  There were pretty tassel-flowers and Jack-in-pulpits growing there, which at any other time he might have plucked, and carried home in his cap for Kitty; but he did not heed them now.  Something in the distance had caught his eye, something that, showing darkly through the trees, from a bend in the streamlet, caused his breathing to grow thicker and his stride to change into a run—­it was the empty boat!

Hastening toward it, in the vain hope that he would find his little ones playing somewhere near the spot, he clutched his ride more firmly, and gasped out their names one by one.  Where were they?—­his sunny-hearted Bessie, his manly little Rudolph, and Kitty, his bright-eyed darling?  Alas! the only answer to the father’s call was the angry mutter of the thunder, or the quick lightning that flashed through the gathering gloom!