"
Tormented by a mother's instinct which told her that all was not well
with her child, Mrs. McDonald, assisted by her sons, made a thorough
search of the house, thinking that perhaps the baby might have toddled
back to its home, tired of watching her brothers skate upon the pond,
and had, unobserved by her mother, entered one of the bed rooms and gone
to sleep. Carefully she looked through every room and then she searched
the whole building from cellar to garret, all the while loudly calling
for her missing darling, but the search proved futile.
Then she lit lanterns, one for herself and one for each of her boys, and
together they searched through the bunk house, the tool house and every
other out-building on the reservation, but all their hunting was of no
avail, as they found no trace of the child.
Up and down the right-of-way they searched, hoping to find the tracks in
the soft snow showing the direction the tot might have taken, but every
effort was in vain, and they had almost reached the garden gate of the
house, all of them broken-heartedly weeping, having given up all hope of
ever hearing again of their Helen, when "Spot", the shepherd dog, the
playmate of the children, came racing towards them, swinging a rag, that
he held between his sharp teeth, playfully about his head.
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