"Read it," and he motioned Rachel to take it; "read me Annie's letter."
She read it in a low tone—a repetition of that other plea that Jack had left with her, and its finale the same longing request that her boy should at last be let know his father. Stuart was in tears when she finished.
"Jack," he said, "ten years is a long time; I've suffered every hour of them. Give me the boy; let me know you are agreed at last. Give Annie back to me!"
Jack raised his hand to the bewildered boy, who took it reverently.
"You are Annie's boy?" he whispered; "kiss me for her—tell her—" And then his eyes sought Stuart's—"I held them in pawn for you. I reckon you're earnest enough now—to redeem them. What was that verse about—giving back the pledge when—the sun goes down? You read it. Mother used to read it—little mother! She will be glad, I reckon—she—"
Stuart was sobbing outright, with his arms about the boy. Rachel, with the letter in her hand, was as puzzled as those who had drawn out of hearing. Only the Indians stood close and impassive. Jack, meeting her eyes, smiled.
"You know now—all about—them—and Annie. That was why I tried—to keep away from you—you know now."
But she did not know.
"You took his wife from him?" she said, in a maze of conflicting revelations; and Jack looked at Stuart, as she added, "and who were you?"
"He is my brother!" said Stuart, in answer to that look of Jack's. "He would not let me say it before—not for years. But he is my brother!"