In a hurry."
He waited impatiently and, it seemed to him, an inexcusably long time.
Finally the operator said after the aloof manner of telephone girls:
"I am ringing them."
And again----
"I am ringing them."
And then----
"They do not answer."
And at last, and then only when Steve made emphatic that there must be
some one at the Number Ten bunk-house at this hour, the girl said:
"Wait a minute."
And after that:
"There seems to be something the matter with the line. I can't raise
any of the ranch-houses out that way. We'll send a man out in the
morning."
So he couldn't even warn Barbee that Blenham had made good his
head-start; that Blenham was plainly of one mind to-night; that it was
up to young Barbee to keep his eyes open and his gun cocked. He began
to understand why his grandfather had made Blenham one of his
right-hand men; he had the cool mind and the way of acting quickly
which makes for success.
"I got a horse for you, pardner," said a slow voice as Packard came out
of the office. "A cayuse as can't be beat for legs an' lungs. Come
ahead."
Steve looked at him eagerly. He was a little fellow, leather-cheeked,
keen-eyed, leisurely; a stranger, obviously a cowboy.
"I work for Brocky Lane," offered the stranger as they went out
together. "Know him, don't you?"
"I did a dozen years ago," answered Steve absently.
Pages:
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112