for the recovery of that beautiful mare. I believe
that she belongs--every hair and hoof of her--to our young friend here.
There has been some trickery in the case."

"Oh, Uncle Dick!" shrieked Betty.

"When I went to see that poor little cripple Hunchie Slattery he told me
that the very papers that were given to Mr. Bolter with the horse must
prove Ida's ownership at one time of the mare. There was some kind of a
quit-claim deed signed by her name, and that signature must be a forgery.

"The horse could never have been sold in England, for the Bellethorne
stable was too well known there. The men who grabbed the string of horses
left when Ida's father died are well-to-do, and Mr. Bolter will be able to
get his money back, even if he has already paid the full price agreed upon
for Ida Bellethorne.

"I am convinced," concluded Uncle Dick, "that the girl has something
coming to her. And it may even pay Miss Bellethorne to remain in the
United States instead of going to Rio Janeiro until the matter of the
black mare's ownership is settled beyond any doubt."

When the train finally reached New York, Uncle Dick did not even delay to
try to reach the dock by telephone. He bundled his party into a taxicab
and they were transported to the dock where the _San Salvador_ lay.

A steward seemed to be on the look-out for the party, and addressed Uncle
Dick the moment he alighted from the cab.

"Mr. Gordon, sir? Yes, sir. Madam Bellethorne has received your wire and
is waiting for you. I have arranged for you all to be passed through the
inspection line. The steamship, sir, is delayed and will not sail until
next tide."

"And that is a mighty good thing for us," declared Mr. Gordon to his
charges.

His business card helped get them past the inspectors. It is not easy to
board a ship nowadays to bid good-bye to a sailing friend. But in ten
minutes or so they stood before the great singer.

She was a tall and handsome woman. Betty at first glance saw that Ida, the
niece, would very likely grow into a very close resemblance to Madam
Bellethorne.

The woman looked swiftly from Betty to Ida and made no mistake in her
identification of her brother's daughter. Ida was crying just a little,
but when she realized how close and kindly was her aunt's embrace she
shook the drops out of her eyes and smiled.

"Father wanted I should find you, Aunt Ida," she said. "He wrote a letter
to you and I have it. I think it was the principal th