Slowly she opened her eyes. The blood came back into her cheeks, that paled again at the sight of the crimson mark on her arm.

"It is only a scratch--not deep," said Mr. Blackford, rea.s.suringly. "The brute leaped to one side. It must have been desperate to spring on you that way."

"What was it?" asked Amy, weakly.

"A lynx--a fierce sort of beast. Wait, I will bind up your arm," and he drew out his handkerchief.

As he was winding the linen about the cut he started. A queer look came over his face. He stared at a mark--a strange red mark--on her shoulder.

"That--that!" stammered Mr. Blackford. "How did you come by that mark, Amy?"

He stood holding her arm--her arm whence the sleeves had been ripped, and the young man was gazing with fascinated eyes at a peculiar star-shaped mark in deep red imprinted on the white flesh. In red it matched the ruddy hue of the blood drawn by the lynx.

"Tell me," he said, hoa.r.s.ely, "how did that mark come there?"

"It is a birth mark," said Amy, slowly. "It has always been there. But why--why do you question me so? Why do you look at me so strangely?"

"Because, Amy, there may be something providential in this. Because you--you may be my--sister!"

"Your sister!" She started as though to pull away from him, but he held her arm, continuing to gaze at the red mark.

"Yes," he answered. "Wait. I must make sure this time. I have a drawing of it. Let me compare it, please. You are not cold?"

"No." Amy was pale, but her heart was pumping blood through her veins at such a rapid rate that it seemed as if she would never be cold again.

The flow of blood from the scratches made by the beast had somewhat lessened.

From his pocket Mr. Blackford drew a paper. Amy could see that it contained a drawing--an outline in red ink. The young man compared this with the mark on her shoulder--a mark at which she had often wondered herself.

"It is the same--the very same," he murmured. "The same shape, the same size, and in the same place. There can be no doubt of it, I think. Amy, you must be--my sister!"

"But--but," she stammered, "you said your sister had a 'V' shaped mark on her arm, just above the elbow. Now you----"

"I know I said that, but it was a mistake. Or, rather, that was not the real identifying mark. The people on whom I relied did not send me all the information they had.

"My missing sister did have a mark on her arm--a mark shaped like a 'V,'

but it is not a birth mark. It was caused by the sharp point of a hot flatiron when she was a child. But the main identifying mark is this red one on the shoulder. You have it! Everything tallies with the new information I have."

"But you never said anything to us about this," spoke Amy, wonderingly.

"I know it. I thought I had inflicted enough of my family troubles on you girls. I kept quiet about this. I determined to say nothing. But now, when I saw this mark on you, I was sure. There can be no mistake.

Oh, Amy!" and his eyes filled with tears of joy.

"I--I hope there is no mistake," she faltered. "I--perhaps it will be well to say nothing to the others about it--just yet."

"Perhaps. I will have further inquiries made, and then I will let you know. Poor Amy! Does it pain you very much?" and he touched her arm gently.

"No, hardly any, now."

"I will bind it up, and we will go back. Oh, Amy, I hope--I pray that it may turn out you are my sister. I--I want you so much."

"And I hope so, too," she said.

The scratched arm was bandaged, and the torn sleeves adjusted as well as could be. Then the two, upon whom Fate had payed such a strange trick, walked back.

"I had some hopes, when you first mentioned a birth mark," said Amy, "that mine might prove to be the one you were looking for, but when you spoke of one near the elbow I knew it could not be. This scar, which does somewhat resemble a 'V,' was not a birth mark, though."

"No, and that threw us all off. But I did not then know of the mistake having been made. I only learned differently the other day, but I kept silent about it. There had been disappointments enough. But when I saw that mark on your shoulder, it came to me in a rush. Amy, you must be my sister!"

"I--I hope I am!"

"But we will wait and make sure."

To this she agreed. Of course they showed their excitement when they joined the others--a double excitement--but the story of the lynx was excuse enough for that, and no embarra.s.sing questions were asked. Amy was hurried back to the cabin to have her arm dressed properly.

CHAPTER XXV

CHRISTMAS JOYS

They were gathered about a big fire on the hearth in the largest cabin--the outdoor girls, the boys, Mr. Ford and others. The crackling blaze leaped up the broad-throated chimney--it snapped with the energy of Fourth of July pyrotechnics, and threw a ruddy glow on happy faces.

Betty sang:

"Merry, merry Christmas, everywhere, Cheerily it ringeth through the air.

Christmas bells, Christmas trees, Christmas odors on the breeze.

Merry, merry Christmas, everywhere, Cheerily it ringeth through the air!"

The others joined in, and then, clasping hands they circled around the room, their shadows flickering in fantastic and gigantic shapes on the wall as the fire danced with them.

"It's going to be the best Christmas ever--the very best ever!"

murmured Amy, shyly, as she sat beside her--brother.

"That's right, little girl," he said, patting her arm, the one torn by the lynx. But he took good care to pat above the scratch, which had been bandaged.

For there was now no doubt that Amy and Mr. Blackford were brother and sister. Following the strange revelation to him of the red mark on her shoulder, the young business man had caused careful inquiries to be made. There was no mistake this time. The baby picked up in the flood had the red mark--Mr. Blackford's missing sister had the red mark, and so had Amy. They were one and the same. This was sufficiently proved.

And if other identification was needed, it was in the scar near Amy's elbow--a scar which at one time she hoped would prove a means of identifying her. And it did in a measure.

For the mark was that made by the hot point of a flatiron. One had fallen on her when she was a baby, making a bad burn that had healed over in the course of time. This fact regarding Amy was learned from the old diary found with her on the raft in the flood. And from another and independent source it was learned that Mr. Blackford's missing sister had a similar scar, caused by a like accident. Though years had almost obliterated it, still it was sufficiently plain.

"They can't get you away from me now, Amy," said Mr. Blackford, proudly.

"I won't let them," added Amy, moving closer to him.

"Pa.s.s the chocolates, Sis," ordered Will. "What is Christmas without candy?"

"Oh! to think of all the good luck we've had since we came to the winter camp!" cried Grace, as she complied. "Papa gets his land back----"