re very obliging. They allowed me to
see not only the original manuscript, but Mrs. Feversham's letter, which I
took the trouble to copy."

"Mrs. Feversham's letter?" Tisdale exclaimed. "Do you mean it was Mrs.
Feversham who was responsible for that story?"

"As it was published, yes. But Daniels was not a pen name. There really
was such a writer--I have taken the trouble to find that out since I
arrived in Seattle. He was on the staff of the _Press_ and wrote a very
creditable account of the catastrophe on the Great Northern railroad, in
which glowing tribute was given you. But since then, and this is what
makes the situation so questionable, he has left the paper and dropped
completely out of sight."

Tisdale drew forward his chair and settled himself comfortably. "There is
no need to worry about Jimmie Daniels," he said; "he is all right. I saw
him at Cascade tunnel; he told me he was about to be married and go to the
Wenatchee country to conduct a paper of his own. It's too bad there wasn't
another reporter up there to tell about him. He worked like a Trojan, and
it was a place to try a man's mettle. Afterwards, before he left, he came
to me and introduced himself. He had been aboard the yacht that day I told
the story. He had taken it down in his notebook behind an awning. He told
me one of the ladies on board--he did not mention her name--who read his
copy later, offered to dispose of it for him."

"So," said the lawyer slowly, "you did tell the story; there was a
papoose; the unfortunate incident really occurred."

"Yes," responded Tisdale, "it happened in a canyon of those mountains
across the Sound. You can barely make out their outline to-night; but
watch for them at sunrise; it's worth waiting for." Then, after a moment,
he said, "I told the story to show the caliber of Weatherbee, the man who
put himself in my place when the Indians came to our camp, looking for me;
but, in editing, all mention of him was cut out. Daniels couldn't
understand that. He said the manuscript was long, but if it was necessary
to abridge in making up the magazine, why had they thrown out the finest
part of the story?"

"Let me see," said the attorney thoughtfully, "wasn't Weatherbee the name
of the man you grub-staked in Alaska, and who discovered the Aurora mine?"

Tisdale bowed, then added, with the vibration playing softly in his voice:
"And the name of the bravest and noblest man that ever fought the unequal
fight of the