Across the railroad was the little, rushing river, swollen now with rains that had been snow on the higher slopes of the mountain behind the town.
Marie did not go near the river at first.

Some instinct of dread made her shun even the possibility that Lovin Child had headed that way.

But a man told her, when she broke down her diffidence and inquired, that he had seen a little tot in a red suit and cap going off that way.

He had not thought anything of it.

He was a stranger himself, he said, and he supposed the kid belonged there, maybe.
Marie flew to the river, the man running beside her, and three or four others coming out of buildings to see what was the matter.