who fancied that he could pick character oat of the marks of a pen,
thought that a mother's heart had overflowed and that a hard,
commercial hand had cramped itself to a strange employment--the
expression of affection. The father deplored the fact that his son
could not be reached by telegraph, and still more did he lament his
inability, on account of urgent business demands, to come himself
instead of sending a letter. "Admit of no delay, but set out for home
at once," the father commanded. "Telegraph as soon as you can, and
your mother and I will meet you in New Orleans. I hope that this may
not be exploited in the newspapers. God knows that in our time we have
had enough of newspaper notoriety. Say nothing to any one, but come at
once, and we can give for publication such a statement as we think
necessary. Of course your discovery, as a sequel to your abduction
years ago and the tremendous interest aroused at the time, will be of
national importance, but I prefer that the news be sent out from this
place."

Here the handwriting was changed, and "love," "thank God," "darling
child," and emotion blots filled out the remainder of the page.

"You see," said Witherspoon, "that I have a reason for depriving you
of an early whack at this thing. Now, I have written again and told
them not to be impatient, and that I would leave here as soon as
possible. I have settled up everything here, but I've got to go to a
little place away over on the coast and close out some mining
interests there."

"It must be of but trifling importance, my boy, and I should think
that you'd let it go."