In fact, they had scarcely gone half a mile when Kennedy, who was
riding between the two and fighting off by sheer nerve the illness
he felt, suddenly fell over in half a faint on the horse's neck.
Elaine and Mary reined up their horses.

"Why, Craig," cried Elaine, startled, "what's the matter?"

The sound of her voice seemed to arouse him. He braced up. "Oh,
nothing, I guess," he said with a forced smile. "I'm all right."

It was no use, however. They had to cut short the ride, and
Kennedy returned to the house, glad to drop down in an easy chair
on the porch, while Elaine hovered about him solicitously. His
head buzzed, his skin was hot and dry, his eyes had an unnatural
look. Every now and then he would place his hand to his ear as
though he felt some pain.

They had already summoned the country doctor, but it took him some
time to get out to the house. Suddenly a messenger boy rode up on
his bicycle and mounted the porch steps. "Telegram for Mr.
Kennedy," he announced, looking about and picking out Craig
naturally as the person he wanted.

Kennedy nodded and took the yellow envelope while Elaine signed
for it. Listlessly he tore it open. It read:

CRAIG KENNEDY,

c/o Wellington Brown, Rockledge, N. J.