" Poor Captain French gave a deep groan.
Then they all went down into the kitchen together, talking and
lamenting. And then, Captain French was galloping away on his gray
horse to call assistance, and Ann was flying away over the fields,
blue apron, cards, wool and all.
"O, Ann!" Mrs. Polly cried after, "where are you going?"
"I'm going--to find--Hannah!" Ann shouted back, in a shrill, desperate
voice, and kept on.
She had no definite notion as to where she was going; she had only one
thought--Hannah French, her darling, tender, little Hannah French, her
friend whom she loved better than a sister, was lost.
A good three miles from the Wales home was a large tract of rough
land, half-swamp, known as "Bear Swamp." There was an opinion, more or
less correct, that bears might be found there. Some had been shot in
that vicinity. Why Ann turned her footsteps in that direction,
she could not have told herself. Possibly the vague impression of
conversations she and Hannah had had, lingering in her mind, had
something to do with it. Many a time the two little girls had remarked
to each other with a shudder, "How awful it would be to get lost in
Bear Swamp."
Any way, Ann went straight there, through pasture and woodland, over
ditches and stone walls. She knew every step of the way for a long
distance.
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