"The woods and plains are everywhere,
But for those things we do not care.
In every nook and every place
We look for a familiar face.
What has become of those we cherish?
Are they alive, or did they perish?"
"Don't go on that way, Songbird, you give a fellow the blues," cried Tom. "If I thought Dick and Sam had perished"
"Merely a figure of speech, Tom. I had to find a word to rhyme with cherish, that's all."
"And such a word is rarish, I suppose," murmured Tom. "Honest, this is no joking matter," he continued soberly.
"I know it, and I wish Sam and Dick were back."
They continued to watch the ranch and presently saw a boy come out with a bundle under his arm and a fishing pole over his shoulder.
"There's a boy, and he is coming this way!" cried the poetic youth.
They watched the boy as long as they could and saw him turn to the northward and take to a trail running close to a fair-sized stream.
"I think he is going fishing," said Tom. "I'd like to run across him and question him."
They watched the boy as long as they could, and then climbed down the tree and told the others of what they had seen.
