s and several toilet
articles, showing that even in the desert young Farnsworth did not
neglect his personal appearance. There were some clean shirts and
handkerchiefs, and in the bottom of the bag another leather case.

"If he has anything by which he may be identified, it is in here," said
Ted. "But this is locked. Shall I force it?"

"I believe you'd better," answered the major.

"I don't care much about doing it," said Ted, "but as it is to help him
I suppose I might as well."

The major nodded, and with the blade of his knife Ted soon had the bag
open.

The first thing he came to was a photograph of a beautiful woman, at
which he looked intently for a few moments.

It seemed to him that he had seen her, or some one very like her,
somewhere before.

Then he passed it over to the major, and reached his hand into the bag
once more.

Suddenly he was interrupted by a startled cry, in which there was a tone
of pain and surprise, from the major.

Looking up, he saw that the major was as white as a sheet, and that his
hand trembled violently.

"What is it?" Ted asked, striding to the major's side.

But Major Caruthers was too shaken by emotion to reply at once.

He continued to stare at the picture with devouring eyes, his face
alternately flushing and paling. He was gasping as if he would speak,
but the words would not come.

"Do you know her?" asked Ted gently.

The major nodded his head for reply.

"What else do you find?" he managed to ask finally.

Ted emptied the contents of the bag upon the bed.

Among them was a package of old letters carefully tied.

"Look at those letters," commanded the major hoarsely.

Ted untied the string, and took one letter from the pack and opened it.
It had been opened and folded so many times that it was with difficulty
that Ted could open it now without having it fall to pieces.

"You read it before I do," said the major, who was suffering from a
great, nervous strain, and showed it in his face and trembling hand.

Ted spread it on the bed and bent over it.

In the upper left-hand corner was a faded crest of a tower, over which
was a coronet.

"My dear, wandering boy," the letter began, "I do not know where you
are, or if you are well and alive, or are in trouble, for I have not
heard from you for many months. I am sending this at random into that
great America in the hope that it may reach you some day to tell you
that your mother is constantly thinking of