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 “God’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, sturdy 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 God have us all in his keeping!
Yours as ever,