He looked at the bits of paper.

There were fifteen or twenty pieces, and on each was sketched a picture.
He heard a low catch in Celie's breath as he bent over them, and his own pulse quickened.

A glance was sufficient to show him that with the pictures Celie was trying to tell him what he wanted to know.

They told her own story--who she was, why she was at Bram Johnson's cabin, and how she had come.

This, at least, was the first thought that impressed him.