the mysterious past forever. "Polly Hopkins" in her poor and ragged
calico gown--for the picturesque Indian garb of yore is now but a
tradition in the Qualla Boundary--had barely lifted her head in her
flapping old sunbonnet that scarcely disguised its pose of surprised
expectation, when a sound came from the interior of the house as
turbulent as the approach of a troop of wild horses, and instantly there
rushed out into the sunshine a sturdy blond child with wide, daring blue
eyes, golden hair, muscular bare legs, arrayed in a queer little frock of
blue gingham, and no further garb than the graces of his own symmetry.

For a moment Bayne was like a man in a dream. To be confronted suddenly
with the realization of all his hopes, the consummation of all his
struggles, took his breath away. He had not been sufficiently acquainted
with the boy to recognize him at once in this different attire, and with
the growth and vigor of nearly a year's time, but the incongruity of his
fair complexion, his blond hair, in this entourage, his exotic aspect,
made Bayne's heart leap and every nerve tremble.

Meeting the gaze of the big, unafraid blue eyes, he asked at a venture in
English, "And what is your name, young man?"

"Archie Royston," promptly replied the assured and lordly youngster.

"Alchie Loyston," mechanically repeated the old sibyl. Even the glance of
her dimmed eyes was a caress as she fondly turned them toward the child.

Bayne looked as if he might faint. A sharp exclamation was scarcely
arrested on his lips. He flushed deeply, then turned pale with
excitement. For months past, flaring in all the public prints, that name
had been advertised with every entreaty that humanity must regard, with
every lure that might excite cupidity, with every threat that
intimidation could compass. And here, in this sequestered spot, out of
the world, as it were, among the remnant of an Indian tribe, of a
peculiarly secluded life, of a strange archaic speech and an isolated
interest, was craftily hidden the long-lost child. Any ill-considered
remark might even yet jeopardize his restoration, might result in his
withdrawal, sequestered anew and inaccessible. Julian Bayne became
poignantly mindful of precaution. He affected to write down the Cherokee
words as the interpreter and the old sibyl discussed them, but his pencil
trembled so that he could hardly fashion a letter. It was an interval to
him of urgent inward debate. He scarcely da