MAMA, don’t you think you can have some fireworks on the Fourth of July and come out to the Brothers School so that we can celebrate?”

Little Freddie Gates, Swiftwater’s youngest boy, looked up in my face with the dearest kind of a smile, and put his arm on my shoulder. The little fellow had just had his night bath in my room and had put on his fresh, clean, white pajamas, ready for bed.

It was Saturday before the Fourth of July and Freddie knew that I might not be able to spend Sunday with him at the Brothers School—which was the first Sunday since Freddie was taken there that I had not spent the day with him.

Now, it may seem odd to you and all the rest who have followed the story of Swiftwater’s fortunes and misfortunes, that I have never told you about the two dear little boys—Bera’s children—who all these years have been without a father’s care and who call their Grandma “Mama.”

And this brings me to the story of how Clifford, the child who first saw the light of day on Gold Quartz Creek in order to satisfy his father’s pride, as I have already told, was stolen from me by Lena Hubbell, the nurse. Clifford is the oldest boy of the two, and as dear a little fellow and as manly and straightforward and handsome as any boy you ever saw in your life. When the papers in Seattle told of Swiftwater making a big strike in the Tanana, Bera and I and all of us felt that at last there would be a brighter dawning and a better day, and an end of the drudgery and sacrifice and slavish toil which had been our portion.

A day or two after the story of Swiftwater’s gold find came over the wires, Lena, into whose custody I had placed Clifford, came to me saying:

“Mrs. Beebe, if you don’t care, I’d like to take Clifford on a little trip of two or three weeks to Mt. Vernon. I have some friends there and I need a vacation and a rest.”

I had befriended Lena in the North and had done everything I could for her. I trusted the girl implicitly and it is not to be wondered at that I quickly gave her permission to take Clifford with her to Mt. Vernon, which is only a half day’s ride or less from Seattle.

I told Lena to take good care of the child and be sure that she wrote me every few days—and this she promised to do.

Two weeks went by and I heard no word from Lena. I feared the child might be ill and wrote and then telegraphed without receiving an answer to either. The last letter was returned to me unopened.

That afternoon I took the last train for Mt. Vernon, and before I went to bed in the little hotel there, I found that my worst fears were true—Lena had left, leaving no address, and had taken Clifford with her. Later, I found she had taken the boy to Canada.

I have not heard directly from Lena and Clifford, although I know what fate has befallen the boy, and that he is alive and well. Of course, I do not know that Lena Hubbell deliberately planned to kidnap Clifford, believing that his father, when he had amassed another fortune, would pay a large sum for his recovery.

As soon as I had found in Fairbanks that Swiftwater was coming out, I urged him then and there, with all the power and earnestness at my command, to send an officer for Lena Hubbell and the child into Canada and bring the boy home.

Swiftwater has not spent a dollar in this endeavor, although it has cost me several hundred dollars in futile efforts to bring the boy home.

Those two boys—Clifford and Freddie—are all that I have left in this world to live for. Freddie is seven years old, bright, plump, well developed and very affectionate. It is said of him that he learns very quickly and remembers well, and the dear Fathers at the Brothers School at South Park, who have taken care of him, fed him and clothed him for months without a dollar of Swiftwater’s money, say that he will some day make a name in the world.

And now, I am going to take you, my reader, into my confidence and tell you something that is sacred. These boys, I feel, are my own flesh and blood—my own boys.

If my story will throw some new light on the hardships of women who are forced to go to the North in search of a livelihood or shall be read with interest by all my old friends in Alaska, I shall rest content. I have a mission to perform—the care and education of my two boys—Clifford and Freddie.

THE END.