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?"

"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.

"I don't understand," he said.

"Neither do I," returned Bill rather blankly. "I guess if there is to
be any setting down, it's Brick that needs a chair."

The telegram was as follows:

"The second you get this, hide for your life. Red Kimball says he can
prove everything. Will explain in letter.

"Lahoma."

"Don't say nothing to me for a spell," growled Brick, thrusting his
hands deep into his pockets. "I've got to think mighty quick." He
strode toward the dugout, leaving Wilfred and Bill staring at each
other, speechless.

In a short time, Willock reappeared, bringing from the dugout his
favorite gun. "Come along," he bade them briefly. When he had
ascended the