ere too poor and too old to adopt the child so they had gone
miles out of their way to find an orphanage and leave the baby there,
along with the box and papers.

"When Dr. Raymond heard the story and saw you, for you were the baby, he
got me on the telephone and told me all about you. And that night he
brought you here, and you were such a chubby, bright, interesting little
fellow that mother and I fell in love with you immediately and decided
to adopt you, which we did according to law. So you are our legal
child, Don, and all that, although we are not your real parents."

Somehow that made me feel a little happier. Dad and mother did have a
claim on me at least. That was something.

"It was not until after Dr. Raymond had left," went on father, "that
mother and I examined the box and papers that had come with you. Here
they are."

Dad took up a worn and age-yellowed envelope addressed in a bold hand:

To the Finder

Inside was the following brief message:

TO THE FINDER:--

The mother of this child, Donald Mullen, is dead. I, his father,
cannot give him the care he should have. Will you, the finder,
adopt him, care for him, and bring him up to be an honest,
trustworthy man, and win the eternal gratitude of his dead
mother and

DONALD MULLEN,
his father.

"Then my name is--or was Mullen," I exclaimed.

"According to that," said dad softly, "but when you became our son we
kept your first name and discarded the family name of course."

"But--but what has become of my father, Donald Mullen?" I asked.

"My boy, we have tried both for your sake and for our own to find out.
We have followed up and searched every possible clue and--but wait, here
are other papers of interest and after you have read them I will tell
you all we have done to locate your real father and afterwards we will
talk the whole situation over." As dad was speaking he passed over the
battered tin box. On the lid was inscribed the simple lines--

The contents of this box belong to the boy. If you are honest
you will see that it comes into his hands at the proper time. If
you are dishonest, then God help the boy and God help you!

D. MULLEN.

It was some time before I could make up my mind to force the lid. When I
did the first thing that my eyes fell upon was this buckskin bag of
unmistakable Indian design, beautifully decorated with bead work and
highly colored porcupine quills cunn