the second of
June--ten days earlier. And it was a letter that should have put joy into
his heart, rather than have raised his anger and hatred.

"MY DEAR BROTHER (it ran)--

"It is possible that a letter from me may not be as welcome as I try
to hope. I can only trust that your resentment against me has abated
in these long twelve years since you cut yourself out of my life. I
know you blamed me for what happened at our father's death. You said
nothing, would not see me, or the whole thing could have been
adjusted then. You went off believing what was not true. Whether
father treated you justly or unjustly you are the best judge. From my
point of view it was the latter. It was always a mystery to me that
he cut you out of his will. I was as disappointed as you, and it is
for that reason that, for twelve years, I have been seeking you, to
restore to you your share of the property. My dear boy, I'm sure you
cannot imagine what joy it is to me that at last I am able to write
this, that at last I shall be able to say it to you. We both know
what a martinet father was, and what a disappointment it was to him
when you refused to adopt the army and join me in following in the
old boy's footsteps, but, unless there was something else between
you, that was insufficient reason for the injustice of his will.

"Well, all that is past now. What I have set aside as your share is
untouched, and has been accumulating all these years. It is waiting
for you. If you refuse it, I shall never touch it. In that case it
remains tied up for my little daughter, at such time as she shall
marry. But of course I have done this only as an emergency. You will
not, I know, refuse it.

"Thank God, I have found you at last, dear old boy! Now, listen! I
have set my plans with great care, and hope you will appreciate them.
I do not want to subject you to any curiosity among our friends--you
know how inquisitive people are--so I have come out here ostensibly
on a big game shoot in the Rockies. Alice, my wife--you remember
Alice Travers--and little Marjorie, our daughter, are with me. They
know nothing of my secret. We shall break our journey at Sioux City,
and then come across to you by road. And, lo! when we arrive my
little surprise for them--Marjorie finds an uncle, Alice a brother.

"In conclusion, I hope to be with you on the 16th at latest; we shall
come by way of the south