Webber was one of the number. To satisfy his incredulous mind, he
searched every possible and impossible lurking-place where an object as
small as a ball could be concealed.

"I guess he's went," he agreed, at last.

Then out on the hill-side went the crowd, and breaking up in groups,
each with its lanterns and torches, they searched the rock-strewn slope
In every direction. The wavering lights went hither and yon, revealing
now the faces of the anxious men, and then prodigious features of a
clump of granite bowlders, jewelled with mica, sparkling in the light.

Intensely the darkness hedged the groups about. The sounds of their
voices and of rocks that crunched beneath their boots alone disturbed
the great, eternal calm; but the search was vain. The searchers had
known it could be of no avail, for the puny foot of man could have made
no track upon the slanted floor of granite fragments that constituted
the hill-side. It was something to do for Jim, and that was all.

At length, about midnight, it came to an end. They lingered on the
slope, however, to offer their theories, invariably hopeful, and to say
that Monday morning would accomplish miracles in the way of setting
everything aright.

Many were supperless when all save Jim and little Keno had again
returned to Borealis and left the two alone at the cabin.

"We'll save the milk in case he might come home by any chance," said
the gray old miner, and he placed the cup on a shelf against the wall.