She related it to him, but he felt too confident in his own strength to believe such a dream as that. It gradually faded from Mary's mind as such things will do, but now and then some circumstance would recall it to her mind with all the vividness of reality. While camping on the Yass, a stranger came to William and asked him for his daughter Maria, who was then only fourteen years old. William replied that Maria was nothing but a child, and he was an utter stranger, so he could not for a moment think of consenting. Three nights after this, the man stole the girl away, and when morning came and the father discovered the loss, he was almost frantic with grief. He was a most devoted and affectionate father, and he was fairly beside himself with his daughter's disappearance. He spent money like water. Advertised, went from place to place, searched and hired others to search with him, for the missing girl. It was of no use. She was never found. While searching for her four of his horses wandered away, and only one ever returned. Then, finally giving up in despair, he hired horses and went to Yass city. Arriving there William obtained work for a man named Gallager, at putting up a barn. They had been settled but a short time when the baby was prostrated with colonial fever. Mary did all she could, but the child grew worse. Four months went by and still there was no improvement. At last Mary persuaded her husband to get a doctor. The doctor came and told the mother there was one chance in a hundred of the baby's life. No signs of life seemed left in the little body, but he ordered her to put a strong mustard poultice over the stomach. "If it raises a blister," said he, "she will live. If not, she is dead." Into Mary's mind there suddenly flashed her dream. "Sickness, but no death." Well, then, her baby should live. A short time after the doctor's departure, Mrs. Gallager, a neighbor, came into the tent, and said, "Mrs. Chittenden, let me hold the child." "No, Mrs. Gallager, thank you, I would rather hold her." The woman bustled about and got a tea-kettle of water upon the stove. "What are you doing," asked Mary. "Getting a bit of hot water. The child is dead, so we will want some water hot." "She will not die, Mrs. Gallager. She is going to live." "Why, woman, she is dead now! Her finger nails are black!" "No, she is not dead," persisted the mother. Who knows the great power and faith of a mother?