Little Rifle stood pale and breathless, as he saw Harry Northend draw the slip of paper from the secret recess in the stock of his gun.
“Shall I read it?” asked Harry in a husky voice.
“Yes,” was the whispered answer.
And he read:
“On the completion of her second birthday, I presented this rifle to my beloved daughter Hagar. Providence has ordained that a portion of her life shall be spent in the wilderness, and it may be of some use to her in the future. Her mother died at her birth and she is my only child. I am compelled to go on a long journey that may separate her from me for years, and I leave her in charge of Maquesa, the Indian chief who is my friend tried and true.
Jared Ravenna.”
When Harry had completed the reading of this extraordinary slip he folded it up and carefully replaced it in the small opening, and closed the cunningly contrived lid, and then looked at his companion, who, still pale, and now shivering in every limb, said:
“Harry, you have discovered my secret; Hagar Ravenna is my name.”
“And you are not a boy, but a girl, and the most beautiful one that I ever laid eyes upon. I did not suspect that, and I now understand your bashfulness, and the suspicion with which Old Ruff looked upon me.”
“Yes; he had great fears that you suspected my sex, and when we were on the point of starting, did his best to dissuade me against going with you.”