"Ain't much here," replied Brick slowly, "and I'm making it last."

"Huh! Nothing is a-lasting when it hasn't been begun," retorted
Bill crossly. "See what the little girl says."

"I'm afraid she's sick," observed Wilfred, eying the envelope with
something like Bill's irritable impatience.

Brick tore it open, and found within another envelope, the inner
one of yellow. "It's a telegraph," he said uneasily. "Lahoma had
telegraphed to the end of the wire, and at Chickasha they puts it
in the white wrapper and sends it on. Do you see?"

"I don't see anything yet," snapped Bill. "Rip 'er open!"

Brick looked at Bill Atkins. "Better set down, Bill," he remarked.
"If they's any kind of shock in this, YOU ain't got no nerve to
stand it." He broke open the yellow envelope and stared at the
message. As he did so, the hand clutching the telegram hardened to
a giant fist, while his brow wrinkled, and his eyes grew dark and
menacing. Wilfred was reminded of the sinister expression displayed
at the first mention by Lahoma of Gledware's name, and he
experienced once more that surprised feeling of not being nearly so
well acquainted with him as he had supposed.

After a dead silence, Willock handed the telegram to Bill, who
wrinkled his brow over it a minute or two before handing it to
Wilfred. The young man read it hastily, then turned to Bill. His
face wore a decidedly puzzled look.