“I never saw her writing, but this seems to be hers. She appears to have written a message. Blake, your eyes are better than mine. See if you can make anything of this,” and he handed over the book. No wonder his eyes were dim--the tears made them so. Eagerly Blake scanned the title page of the little Bible, blackened by fire and smoke and soaked with rain. He could trace some lines, but they were so faint---- “Try this!” exclaimed C. C., holding out a pocket reading glass. “It will magnify the lines.” Once more Blake looked. “It is a message,” he said. “It seems to have been written in a hurry, and not with ink. It looks more like ashes and water mixed.” “I have it!” interrupted Joe. “My sister was surprised, as were the others, by the raid. She only had time to leave a hasty message, and, there being no ink, she dipped a sharp stick in a mixture of water and ashes, and left her message that way.” “It does seem so,” admitted Sergeant Hotchkiss. “Can you read it, Blake?” Slowly Blake spelled out the scrawled words: “‘To--any----’” he began, “‘to any who come--after. We have--been carried away by the natives--to the----’ It looks like ‘south,’” said Blake. “It’s so blurred.” “That’s ‘south,’” was Joe’s opinion, as he looked over his chum’s shoulder. “They took ’em south.” “‘We have been carried off to the south,’” read Blake. “‘Help us if you can. I think they mean to hold us for ransom.’” “Thank the dear Lord for that!” breathed Mr. Duncan. “Now let’s start at once. Off to the south, to rescue my daughter! Sergeant, ask these natives what they know of the tribes south. Are they friendly? Will they give up Jessie? I’ll spend my last dollar for her recovery!” The sergeant paused a moment. “We must go slow,” he said. “I must think about this. I will have a talk with Happy One. He is a wise old native.” Mr. Duncan was all for starting off at once, but the others persuaded him to wait and so make a better and more detailed plan. Accordingly camp was made near the burned missionary station. It was evident that the friendly natives at the little village, and the missionaries, had been surprised by the warlike Africans. Whether any had been killed could only be guessed at. Certainly the station had been pillaged, and some of the inmates, if not all, had been carried off. The Bible hastily written in and tossed aside by Jessie, in the hope that someone would find it, was evidence enough. And the trail seemingly led south, according to her clue, though when Happy One was appealed to he declared that only friendly natives dwelt there--natives who were inclined to Christianity, and who would never think of raiding a mission. “But some of the more warlike ones may have come from there,” insisted Mr. Duncan. “I think we should search to the south.”