ther were much surprised as they examined them one
by one. They were crude, of course, from an artistic point of view,
but they exhibited genius in no slight degree. Trees, houses, dogs and
people were all there. Presently Constance caught sight of a face
which made her start. She seized it from Jennie almost rudely.

"Child!" she cried. "Who is this? Where did you see that man?"

Somewhat alarmed, Jennie shrank back without uttering a word.

"Connie, what's the matter," questioned Mr. Radhurst, astonished at his
daughter's excitement.

"Look, father," and Constance handed him the sketch. "This is
Kenneth's picture, there can be no mistake. The girl must have seen
him somewhere, perhaps on the trail."

"There is a striking resemblance," returned her father. "But we cannot
be sure that it's Kenneth's."

"No, no, father, I can't believe it's any other. It's so real. Where
did you see this man?" she demanded, turning to Jennie.

"Me no see'm," replied the maiden.

"What, never saw him; never met him on the trail?"

Jennie shook her head. "Me no savvy. Me no see'm."

"Look, Jennie," said Mr. Radhurst kindly, "How you make this picture?
You see something, eh?"

Her face brightened at this, and she hastened to reply.

"Beeg chief savvy."

"What, the big chief knows?"

"Ah, ah. All same peejee."

"What, a picture like this?"

"Ah, ah. All same peejee."

Father and daughter looked at each other, and the same idea flashed
into their minds.

"We need help," began Constance. "The old chief knows something which
might be important."

"Mr. Steadman will help us," replied her father. "He knows the
language, and has the chief's confidence."

"I shall go to him at once," and Constance reached for her cloak.

"Why not send a note by the Indian girl, and ask him to come here,
Connie? It's quite dark outside, and I don't like for you to go alone.
There are too many rough men around, and, besides, I would like to talk
with Mr. Steadman, too, about the matter."

"Very well, father; what you say is quite true."

Sitting down before the table, Constance drew forth a sheet of note
paper from her little writing pad, and with a lead pencil wrote a few
words to the clergyman. This was the first time she had ever written
to him, and her face flushed as she began, "Dear Mr. Steadman."

"I have asked him to come here as soon as possible," she said to her
father, as she folded the paper and placed it