'You can't get there to-night,' said the farmer; 'it is no use your
trying. You stay with us, and I'll take you in to-morrow. I'm going there
in the afternoon.'

And so Kenyon remained all night, and slept the dreamless sleep of health
and exhaustion.

It was somewhat late in the afternoon when he reached the city of
Ottawa. Going towards his hotel, he was astonished to hear his name
shouted after him. Turning round, he saw a man, whom he did not
recognise, running after him.

'Your name is Kenyon, isn't it?' asked the man, somewhat out of breath.

'Yes, that is my name.'

'I guess you don't remember me. I am the telegraph operator. We have had
a despatch waiting for you for some time, a cablegram from London. We
have searched all over the town for you, but couldn't find you.'

'Ah,' said Kenyon, 'is it important?'

'Well, that I don't know. You had better come with me to the office and
get it. Of course, they don't generally cable unimportant things. I
remember it said something about you keeping yourself in readiness for
something.'

They walked together to the telegraph-office. The boy was still searching
for Kenyon with the original despatch, but the operator turned up the