Someone called
Titee to go to bed, and Titee was nowhere to be found.
Under the beds, in closets and corners, in such impossible places
as the soap-dish and water-pitcher even, they searched, but he
had gone as completely as if he had been spirited away. It was
of no use to call up the neighbors, he had never been near their
houses, they affirmed, so there was nothing to do but to go to
the railroad track where Titee had been seen so often trudging in
the shrill north-wind.
With lanterns and sticks, and his little yellow dog, the rescuing
party started down the track. The rain had ceased falling, but
the wind blew a gale, scurrying great gray clouds over a fierce
sky. It was not exactly dark, though in this part of the city
there is neither gas nor electricity, and on such a night as this
neither moon nor stars dared show their faces in so gray a sky;
but a sort of all-diffused luminosity was in the air, as though
the sea of atmosphere was charged with an ethereal
phosphorescence.
Search as they did, there were no signs of Titee. The soft earth
between the railroad ties crumbled between their feet without
showing any small tracks or footprints.
"Mais, we may as well return," said the big brother; "he is not
here."
"Oh, mon Dieu," urged the mother, "he is, he is; I know it."
So on they went, slipping on the wet earth, stumbling over the
loose rocks, until a sudden wild yelp from Tiger brought them to
a standstill.
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