Compton who had visited them one day in the cove--Wilfred read the
letter with great attention, but there was no further reference to
himself.

Brick Willock rode over to Mangum nearly every afternoon to hear
from Lahoma, but it happened that on the day of the great news,
neither he nor Bill had returned from a certain hunting expedition
in time for the stage, so Wilfred went for the mail. There was only
one letter, addressed to "Mr. B. Willock," and it seemed strangely
thin. The young man wondered during all his ten-mile return-trip
if Lahoma had fallen ill; and after reaching the log cabin, he kept
looking at the slim missive, and turning it over, with vague
uneasiness.

Brick and Bill had ridden far, and it was dusk before they reached
home with a deer slung over one of the horses.

"They're getting scarcer every year," complained Bill, as he climbed
stiffly to the ground; "I guess they'll finally go the way of the
buffalo."

"Get a letter?" asked Brick, hurrying forward. "Huh! THAT it?
She is sure getting fashionable! I reckon when she's plumb
civilized, she won't write nothing!"

He took the long white envelope and squinted at it inquisitively.

"Well, why don't you open 'er?" snapped Bill. "Afraid you'll spring
a trap and get caught?"