The Argosy, Vol. XXIV No. 2 — page 76: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

268 THE TRACK OF MIDNIGHT. ‘“ I should say we had better wait and see, though it does look as if some one had gone queer in the head,’’ Johnson replied, as he glanced dowr the road along which Farrell was riding furiously. The two stood at the cottage gate, waiting for some idea to come to them which would explain the extraordinary action of the Farrells, ‘‘ We had better go inside,’’ Johnson was saying, when a cloud of dust appeared down the road. ‘‘ Here he comes back,’’ he added. But besides Farrell there was a buggy, and in that buggy a lady and gen- tleman. They drove up to the gateway and sprang out. ‘‘ Major Pearson |’? Wilton exclaimed, as he stepped forward; but the major pushed past him, and, accompanied by his wife, rushed into the cot- tage. Wiltoh turned and looked after them, angry and puzzled. ‘‘ Good iron, my lad, good iron!’’ he heard old Farrell exclaim, as he slapped him on the back and threw his hat in the air. ‘‘I’m more pleased than I’ve ever known! Come and have a drink on it.’’ ‘“ But what does it all mean ?’’ Johnson asked quietly. ‘Mean?’ Farrell cried. ‘‘ Why, it means that you’ve found the major's daughter.’’ ‘‘ The major’s daughter !’? Wilton exclaimed. A figure ran out of the cottage and up to the three, and as Wilton turned to see who it was he met Major Pearson face to face. He seized him by the hands and shook them, as he exclaimed in a broken voice, ‘“ God bless you, my boy! God bless you, my boy !’’ ““TIs it she, major ?’’ Farrell cried. But the major was too much moved for words, and as he nodded his head in answer, two tears glittered in the sunlight as they fell, and told his com- panions of the tumultuous joy that was in his heart. ‘‘ Come,’’ he said, and led Wilton into the cottage, followed by Johnson and Farrell. At the door of the sitting room he stopped. Mrs. Pearson, with Mary in her arms, sat crying softly, while Mrs. Farrell watched them, her own eyes overflowing. Narli, forgotten but not forgetting, stood beyond them, looking from one to the other. ‘The major led Wilton straight across to his wife, and, taking one of her hands, placed it in Wilton’s, ‘“He found her,’’ he whispered; and Wilton felt the hand he held tighten upon his own. It was all that the mother could spare in that moment of supreme joy. Later, when matters had settled down into a calmer state, Wilton was overwhelmed with tokens of the parents’ love and gratitude, while Johnson’s sturdy nature was reduced to distressful uncertainty in the presence of so much emotional demonstration. And Narli—ugly, black, old Narli—was made the queen of the ceremonies, and treated.with a lavish generosity that she utterly failed to comprehend. For she was able to supply some informa- tion which was invaluable, and which, so far as the Pearsons were concerned, completely proved Mary’s identity with the child who had been stolen from their home in the early days of their married life. Narli had, she said, been carried off a long time ago from her tribe by a white man, who gave her a little white child to take care of. They had d 5 books