Where's Chico? I haven't seen or heard
anything of him; have you?"
They had not; and they immediately began calling and looking for Chico,
who was at that stage of puppyhood that insists upon getting in front of
one and then falling down and lying, paws in the air, waiting to be
picked up and petted. But Chico did not come lumbering up like an
animated black muff, and they could not find his little, dead body.
It occurred to Dade that he might be buried with Tige; and, once the
idea was presented to Jack, he could not content himself to leave the
place until he knew to a certainty. He would never have admitted it, but
there were certain sweet memories which made that particular pup not at
all like other black pups. He got the shovel, and he dug in the little
grave until he was certain that Tige lay there, and that he was alone.
"Well, he's taken the pup along, then; and that proves to me that Jerry
wasn't crazy, or anything like that. He's just pulled out, because he
couldn't stand it around here any longer--and I don't blame him. But I
wish I knew where; we'd take him up to the mine with us; huh?"
"Yes--but we're about fourteen hours too late to find out where he went.
If I'm any judge, these bodies have been dead that long. And if we
found him, the chances are he wouldn't go. If I'm any good at guessing
poor Jerry's state of mind, right now, he don't want to see or speak to
any human being on earth.
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