uld have plenty of time to do as she
liked: to play with and sew for Angelina, for instance. Angelina!--how
she hated the very name! She never wanted even to see the doll again.
Tilderee might get up a "make-believe" funeral, and bury it under the
white rosebush. Yes, that would be the prettiest spot; and for old
affection's sake the thing should be done properly if she came back,
--ah, _if_! And then Joan would put her head down upon the table or a
chair, whichever happened to be near, or hide her face in the folds of
her apron, and cry: "What _shall_ I do without Tilderee! Oh, if God
will only give her back to us, I will never say a cross or angry word
again!"

Dawn brought no news of the lost child, and the dreary night of
suspense was succeeded by a day of anguish. At intervals the seekers
sent a message back to the desolate home. Sometimes it was: "Keep up
your courage; we trust all will be well." Or, "Though we have not yet
found the child, please God we will soon restore her to you," and so
on. But, soften it as they could, the fact remained--their expedition
had been fruitless: Tilderee was still lost. They at length despaired
of gaining trace or tidings of her, and agreed that it was useless to
continue the search.

"She must have fallen over a precipice," maintained one of the men.

"If so, we should have met with some sign--" argued another, hesitating
at the thought of what that sign might be.

"It is probable that she has been stolen by the Indians," said
Lieutenant Miller, of the Fort; "and we must adopt other means to
recover her."

Once more dusk was approaching, and they were about to turn back,
when--hark! there was a shout from the borders of the canon beyond. A
few moments before, Abe, the old scout, had disappeared in that
direction. As he pressed onward he presently discovered that, in a
wavering line, the brambles seemed to have been recently trodden down.
A little farther on, almost hidden among the briers and dry leaves, lay
a withered wild flower, like those that grew in the plain below; and
farther still, caught upon a bush, was a bit of the fringe of a shawl,
so small that it might have escaped any but his "hunter's eye." As he
stood still, with senses alert, he heard a sound amid the brush; and,
turning quickly, saw that which made him send forth the ringing halloo
to his comrades. It was a little dog crawling down toward a hollow,
where a spring of water gushed from the