on that very day the child disappeared. The pony on which he had gone
out riding came home, and as it was supposed that the little boy had
been thrown or fallen off, a search was made all over the estate and
continued for days without result. Eventually some of the child's
clothing was found on the beach, and it was conjectured that the young
native had taken the child there and drowned him and left the clothes
to let the Gilmours know that he had had his revenge. But there was
room for doubt, as the body was never found, and they finally came to
think that the clothes had been left there to deceive them, and that as
the man had been so fond of the child he had carried him off. This
belief started them on a wider and longer quest; they invoked the aid
of the authorities all over the province; the loss of the child was
advertised and a large reward offered for his recovery and agents were
employed to look for him. In this search, which continued for years,
Mr. Gilmour spent a large part of his fortune, and eventually it had to
be dropped; and of all the family Mrs. Gilmour alone still believed
that her lost son was living, and still dreamed and hoped that she
would see him again before her life ended.

One day the Gilmours entertained a traveller, a native gentleman, who,
as the custom was in my time on those great vacant plains where houses
were far apart, had ridden up to the gate at noon and asked for
hospitality. He was a man of education, a great traveller in the land,
and at table entertained them with an account of some of the strange
out-of-the-world places he had visited.

Presently one of the sons of the house, a tall slim good-looking young
man of about thirty, came in, and saluting the stranger took his seat
at the table. Their guest started and seemed to be astonished at the
sight of him, and after the conversation was resumed he continued from