For pictures are the only writing that he knows."
"Yes, but who is the letter to?" I asked.
"It's to me very likely. Miranda had told him, I know, years ago, that some day I meant to come here. But if not for me, then it's for any one who caught the beetle and read it. It's a letter to the world."
"Well, but what does it say? It doesn't seem to me that it's much good to you now you've got it."
"Yes, it is," he said, "because, look, I can read it now. First picture: men walking up a mountain--that's Long Arrow and his party; men going into a hole in a mountain--they enter a cave looking for medicine-plants or mosses; a mountain falling down--some hanging rocks must have slipped and trapped them, imprisoned them in the cave. And this was the only living creature that could carry a message for them to the outside world--a beetle, who could BURROW his way into the open air. Of course it was only a slim chance that the beetle would be ever caught and the letter read. But it was a chance; and when men are in great danger they grab at any straw of hope. . . . All right. Now look at the next picture: men pointing to their open mouths-- they are hungry; men praying--begging any one who finds this letter to come to their assistance; men lying down--they are sick, or starving. This letter, Stubbins, is their last cry for help."