The Vancouver independent. (Vancouver, W.T. [Wash.]) 1875-1910, 1878-09-05
BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.

BY MARY KYLE DALLAS.
He had looked for him all day-all
night. 1t was dawn again, and he must
20 home without him-without his little
child his treasure-his most precious
thing on earth. He must 60 home and
tell its mother that the boy was not found.
He wonld never be found now; the man
felt sure of that.
All his life he had dreaded this--all
the little life of that baby boy. He had
been like man who wandered amongst
thieves with diamond in his possession
in full sight of all eyes. 1t seemed to
him that some one must rob him of it.
All the old stories of gypsies who stole
children had troubled him sorely; and
his heart had ached over the pitiful tale
of the little chimney-sweepe who, more
than hundred years ago, while plying
bis trade. came down the chimney of the
nursery from which he had been stolen
when timer fellow STILL and recognizing
it and his mother, was restored to love
and home at last.
Often in the night had the thought so
overcome him that he had stolen from
his bed in the darkness to feel the little
head of his sleeping boy on the pillow of
his crib. Even his wife, the child's
mother, who had loved him so, would
have laughed at his fancies. so he kept
them to himself. Only once--once he
was forced to tell her. That was when he
tattooed the child's foot
Right on the instep he had marked it
with little blue w. 1t was painful
every prick hurt him worse than it did
the boy. And the mother coming home,
had been angry and grieved, and then he
told her
If the child were stolen, we should
know him, though his face altered-though
be forgot his name and US. That is why
l did it."
And she had said:
people have children enough Of their
own. Children are only valuable to
their parents. You are so romantic-so
foolish"
Now it had come. The foolish fear
was realized. Lost or stolen the boy
was gone, and that tattoo mark was
the only thing that comforted him. Alive
or dead they should know him--now, or
after long years, for those marks were in
delible, and no one else would mark his
foot with that tiny w and the timer cross
that followed.
Alive or dead! Could the boy be
dead2 He cast up his hands in his agony
and uttered cry that rang through the
sleeping street. People turned in their
beds, and said to themselves that there
must be fight or that some drunken
man was making night hideous. Some
early risers ended their sleep then and
there for dawn was already breaking; but
no one knew why the man cried out, or
who he was or where he went, save the
solitary policeman, who gave him grave
salute as he passed. Neither asked the
other, Have you found the child" They
knew the question was useless.
But at home, where the lights had
burned all night, the mother, who paced
to and fro, asked it, though she knew the
answer would be NO"
"You have not searched everywhere, "
she said. You have forgotten some
place-some ones house where he may
have gone. Go out--go. | will 90 also
You told me you would bring him back,
or | would not have been left at home
Co..
The man turned on his very threshold
iilbuEhN lIt NC htit1 uN Siib
"and | wanted to tell you-the tattoo
mark, we shall be sure"
Then he fell forward on his face. Fol
twenty four hours he had not tasted food
but only his taintness told him that he
was hungry.
Then the mother remembered that she
was also wife. The wretched people
ate and drank-stones and sea water, for
aught they knew; out they needed
strength For days they looked for their
child in every direction. The river was
dragged, the hospitals, even the prisons
searched.
They spent their small means in adver-
tisisg. They posted notices of their loss
on the walls. All in vain.
After others knew that they followed
a forlorn hope, they still pursued it as
earnestly as ever. And so the weeks
rolled by, the months faded, the years
followed. Theirs was a hard case. If