Then one night the
small, white-faced ox made his appearance at the Edwards barn, having
come home of his own accord.
The next morning Jotham went up on foot to see how his other cattle were
faring. The flood had now largely subsided; but it was plain that during
the storm the water had flowed back round the camp to a depth of several
feet. The oxen were nowhere to be seen, nor could he discern their
tracks round the camp or in the woods that surrounded it. He tried to
track them with a dog, but without success.
Several of Jotham's neighbors assisted him in the search. Where the oxen
had gone or what had become of them was a mystery; the party searched
the forest in vain for a distance of five or six miles on all sides.
Some of the men thought that the oxen had fallen into the stream and had
drowned; it was not likely that they had been stolen. Jotham was at last
obliged to buy another yoke of cattle in order to do his spring work on
the farm.
Two years passed, and Jotham's oxen were almost forgotten. During the
second winter, after school had closed in the old Squire's district,
Willis Murch, a young friend of mine who lived near us, went on a
trapping trip to the headwaters of Lurvey's Stream, where the oxen had
disappeared and where he had a camp.
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