Your partner
asked me point blank if you had written to me of any late find of
yours, or of any special location where you found good signs. I tried
to look innocent, and said maybe you had, but I couldn't remember.
I didn't like to tell a story. I wanted to tell him all the truth,
and how rich you said we would be. I knew you would want to tell him
yourself, so I managed to keep quiet in time. But whenever he looks
at me I feel guilty. And he looks at me so kindly, and he is so good.
He says we can't begin our journey to you right away, because he has
provisions and things to get first; but we will set out in three
days. So I send this letter that you will know I am on the road;
maybe we'll reach you first. He is going to take me riding around
this camp this evening--I mean Mr. Ingalls. He says I must get some
enjoyment before I go up there to the mountains, where no one lives.
He is the nicest stranger I ever met. But, of course, I never was
away from home much to meet folks; I guess, though, I might travel a
long ways and not meet any one so nice. He just brought me a pretty
purse made by the Indians. I hope you wear a big hat like he does,
and big, high boots. I never saw folks wear them back home; but they
do look nice. Now, good-by, Joe, for a few days.

"Yours affectionately,
"FANNIE."

"Well, that letter is plain sailing," remarked Overton, "but there is only
one name in it we could follow up--the partner, John Ingalls. But I don't
think I've heard of him."

"Wait! there is another letter--two more," said Lyster; and the others
were silent as he read:

"JOE: I hope you'll hate me now. I can stand that better than to know
you still like me. I can't help it. I am going with him--your
partner. He loves me, too, Joe--not in the brotherly way you did, but
in a way that makes me think of him and no one else. So I can't marry
any one but him. Maybe it's a sin to be false to you, Joe; but I
never could go to you now. And I can't help going where he wants me
to go. Don't be mad at him; he can't help it either, I suppose. He
says he will always be good to me, and I am going. But my heart is
heavy as I write to you. I am not happy--maybe because I love him
too much. But I am going. Try and forget me.