"Which I never received," finished the Chief. "I supposed you voyaging toward Australia, if not already there."

"I wrote first," said Walter Parks, "to notify you of our accidental meeting, and that we would set out immediately for this city. And I wrote again to tell you of Mr. Ainsworth's sudden illness, and our necessary delay."

"Those two letters I never saw."

"I shall be sorry for that," broke in John Ainsworth, "if their loss will cause us delay, or you inconvenience."

"The non-arrival of those two letters has made the third something of a riddle to me," said the Chief. "But that being now solved, I think no further mischief has been or will be done."

Then followed further explanations concerning the meeting of the two, and John Ainsworth's fever, which, following his ocean voyage, made a delay in San Francisco necessary.

"It was a tedious illness to me;" said the Australian. "Short as it was, it seemed never-ending."

And then, at the request of the Chief, John Ainsworth told his story: briefly, but with sufficient clearness.

"I was a young man," he said, "and filled with the spirit of adventure, when I went West, taking my youthful wife with me. It was a hard life for a woman; but it was her wish to go and, indeed, I would have left her behind me very unwillingly. We prospered in the mining country. My wife enjoyed the novelty of our new life, and we began to gather about us the comforts of a home. Then little Lea was born."

He paused a moment and sighed heavily.

"My wife was never well again. She drooped and faded. When Lea was six months old, she died, and I buried her at the foot of her favorite mountain. I put my baby into the care of one of the women of the settlement--it was the best I could do,--and I lived on as I might. But the place grew hateful to me. There was one man among the rest whose friendship I prized, and after the loss of my wife I clung to him as if he were of my own blood. His name was Arthur Pearson."

Again the narrator paused, and the eyes of the two listeners instinctively sought each other.

"Pearson was younger than I, and was never rugged like most of the men who lived that wild life. And after a time I saw that he, too, was failing. He grew thin and began to cough dismally. Pearson was very fond of my baby girl; and sometimes we would sit and talk of her future, and wish her away from that place, where she must grow up without the knowledge and graces of refined civilization.

"As Pearson became worse, he began to talk of going back to the States, and much as I would miss him, I strongly advised him to go. At last when he had fully decided to do so, he made me a proposition: If I would trust my baby to him, he would take her back and put her in the care of my sister, who had no children of her own, and who was just the one to make of little Lea all that a woman should be. I knew how gladly she would watch over my daughter, and after I had thought upon the matter, I decided to send Lea to her, under the guardianship of Pearson. As I look back, I can see my selfishness. I should have gone with Arthur and the child. But my grief was too fresh; I could not bear to turn my face homeward alone. I wanted change and absorbing occupation, and I had already decided to dispose of my mining interest, and go to Australia.

"I found a nurse for my baby girl; a woman in our little community, who had lost her husband in a mine explosion a few months before. She was glad of an opportunity to return to her friends, and I felt sure that I could trust her with Lea. So they set out for the East, and I made preparations for my journey, while waiting to hear that Pearson and the train were safely beyond the mountains and most dangerous pa.s.ses.

"They had been gone some two weeks when a train came in from the East, and among them was Mrs. Marsh, the nurse. The two trains had met just beyond the range, and Mrs. Marsh had found among the emigrants some of her friends and towns-people. The attraction was strong enough to cause her to turn about, and I may as well dispose of her at once by saying that she shortly after married one of her new-found friends.

"She told me that Pearson had joined a train which crossed their trail the morning after the meeting of the first two parties, and before they had broken camp. This train was going through by the shortest route, as fast as possible; and Pearson had found among the women one who would take charge of little Lea. She brought me a letter from him."

"Did you preserve the letter?" interrupted the Chief.

"I did; it has never been out of my possession, for it was the last I ever heard of Pearson or my little Lea, until--" He paused and glanced toward the Englishman.

"Until you met Mr. Parks?" supplemented the Chief.

"Yes."

"I should like to see that letter," said the Chief.

The Australian took from his breast an ample packet, and from its contents extracted a worn and faded paper. As he handed it to the Chief there was a touch of pathos in his voice.

"It is more than twenty years old," he said.

The writing was in a delicate, scholarly hand, much faded, yet legible.

DEAR AINSWORTH

I suppose Mrs. Marsh has made you acquainted with her reasons for changing her plans. It remains for me to inform you of mine.

Our train, as you know, is not precisely select, and as we advance towards "G.o.d's Country" the roystering ones become a little too reckless for my quiet taste. The train from the North is led by one Walter Parks, an Englishman, of whom I know a little, and that little all in his favor. The others are quiet, st.u.r.dy fellows, of the sort I like. The woman who will care for little Lea is a Mrs. Krutzer; a very good woman she seems. She is going East with her husband, who has the rheumatism and, so they tell me, a decided objection to hard labor. She has a little boy, some six years older than Lea, and she seems glad to earn something by watching over our pet.

We are almost out of the "Danger Country." There is little to dread between this and the Marais des Cygnes, and once we have crossed that, there will be nothing to fear from the Indians.

Still, to make little Lea's safety doubly sure, I shall at once tell Mrs. Krutzer her history, and give her instructions how to find Lea's relatives should some calamity overtake me before the journey ends.

I will at once put into Mrs. Krutzer's hands your letter to your sister, together with the packet, and money enough to carry her to her destination. Having done this, I can only watch over the little one as you would, were you here, and trust the rest to a merciful Providence.

May your Australian venture prosper! I will write you there; and may the good G.o.d have us all in his keeping!

Yours as ever,

A. PEARSON.

This was the letter that the Chief perused with a face of unusual gravity; and then he asked, as he laid it down:

"And your child: you have never heard of her since?"

"Never. I was always a poor correspondent, but I wrote many letters to my sister, to her husband, and to Pearson. They were not answered. The Ulimans were rising people, and they had left their old residence, no doubt. So I reasoned, and I worked on. After a time I was sick--a long tedious illness. When I recovered, and asked for letters, they told me that during my illness some had arrived, and had been lost or mislaid.

Then I a.s.sured myself that these were from Pearson and my sister; that my little one was safe; and I settled down to my new life. Every year I planned a return, and every year I waited until the next, in order to take with me a larger fortune for little Lea. I became selfishly absorbed in money-getting. Then, as years went by, and I knew my girl was budding into womanhood, I longed anew for tidings of her. I wrote again, and again; and then I set my lawyer at the task. He wrote, and he advertised; and at last I settled my affairs out there and started for the United States. An advertis.e.m.e.nt, asking news of Pearson or Lea Ainsworth, was sent to a city paper only a week before I sailed, and it was this that caught the eye of Mr. Parks here."

Again the Chief and Walter Parks exchanged glances, and John Ainsworth rose slowly to his feet.

"Sir," he said in a husky voice, "Mr. Parks has offered a fortune to the man who discovers the slayer of Arthur Pearson. I offer no less for the recovery of my child."

The Chief shook his head.

"That search," he said, "like the other, must cover twenty years."

"To begin," said the Australian, "we must find the Ulimans."

"Who?"

"The Ulimans; my sister was the wife of Thomas Uliman."

"Oh!" said the Chief, and then he leaned forward and touched the bell.

"Send Sanford in," he said to the boy who appeared in the doorway.

In another moment Sanford stood before them.

"Sanford," said his Chief, "Thomas Uliman and wife, residents here twenty years ago, are to be found. Have the records searched, and if necessary take other steps. Stop: what was the calling of this Thomas Uliman?"

"Merchant," said John Ainsworth.

Sanford started suddenly, and lifted one hand to his mouth.