e
care of a colored nurse.

At that time James MacHenry had been a prospector in the region and he had
opened a mine close to that located by the colonel.

All went well until the MacHenry mine petered out as it is called, and
then the man's mind became deranged. He accused the colonel of having
cheated him out of a slice of the richest land and a bitter quarrel
resulted.

Two weeks later MacHenry disappeared, and shortly after that baby Dottie
was missing. A long search was made for the child, but without avail.

Curiously enough, the colonel did not connect the disappearance of his
child with that of Crazy Jim. He started to hunt for the little one among
the Indians and the outlaws in the mountains.

Two years passed, and then one night a good-for-nothing miner named Duffy
was shot in a quarrel over a game of cards. On his dying bed Duffy
confessed that he had once been intimate with Crazy Jim and that the
latter had acknowledged stealing Dottie.

A hunt was at once made for the abductor. It was said he had gone to San
Francisco, and later on he was traced to Chicago, but there the trail was
lost until long after, when a tramp turned up who spoke of having seen
Crazy Jim around New York.

Without delay Colonel Dartwell had come East and scoured the metropolis.
While here he had fallen in with footpads who had sought to rob him.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

A JOYOUS MEETING.

By the time Colonel Dartwell's story was told he and Jerry had landed in
the metropolis, and a hurried walk of a few minutes brought them to Nellie
Ardell's apartment. Mrs. Flannigan was waiting for our hero, having put
both of the children to bed.

"An' did ye find Miss Ardell?" she asked, quickly.

"No, Mrs. Flannigan. But I have found somebody else--the father of little
Dottie."

"Indade, now! An' ain't that noice'" she exclaimed, glancing at Colonel
Dartwell's well-dressed figure. "Well, the poor dear needs somebody, not
but what she got good care here," she added, hastily.

Tears stood in the colonel's eyes as he stepped up beside the bed upon
which Dottie lay. He took the white-robed figure up in his arms and kissed
her face.

"It is she," he said, in a choking voice. "The living picture of her dead
mother!"

Dottie awoke with a start and was inclined to cry out. But Jerry and the
colonel quickly soothed her.

"I am your papa, Dottie; don't you remember papa and big Ruth that used to
be with you?"

The little girl looke