There was a short thunder-shower.

The Parlins shuddered at every flash of lightning, and shivered at every drop of rain; for where was delicate, lost little Fly?
Abner and Horace were out during the shower.

Horace would have braved hurricanes and avalanches in the cause of his dear little Topknot.
"There's one thing we haven't thought of," said Abner, shaking the drops from his hat and looking up at the sky, which had cleared again; "we haven't thought of the railroad surveyors! They are round the town everywhere with their compasses and spy-glasses." It was not a bad idea of Abner's.

He and Horace went to the hotel where the railroad men boarded.

The engineer's face lighted at once.
"I wish I had known before there was a child missing," he said.