s hand, and Theodore Roosevelt quickly arose
to receive them.

He had soon mastered the contents of the messages. President McKinley
was much worse; it was likely that he would not live. For fully a minute
Mr. Roosevelt did not speak. He realized the great responsibility which
rested upon his shoulders. Then, in a voice filled with emotion, he read
the messages aloud.

"Gentlemen," he continued, "I must return to the club-house at once."
And without waiting, he turned and started down the mountain side along
the trail by which he had come.

It was a long, hard walk, but it is doubtful if Theodore Roosevelt took
note of it. A thousand thoughts must have flashed through his mind. If
William McKinley should indeed breathe his last, the nation would look
to him as their Chief Magistrate. He could not make himself believe that
his President was to die.

It was not long before Theodore Roosevelt reached the club-house at the
lake. He asked for further news, but none was forthcoming.

"We will send to the lower club-house at once," said his friends. "You
had better take a short rest, in case you have a sudden call to make the
trip to Buffalo."

A misty rain was falling, and the atmosphere of the mountains was raw
and penetrating. Messengers were quickly despatched to the lower
club-house, and by eleven o'clock that evening news came back that left
no doubt of the true condition of affairs. President McKinley was
sinking rapidly, and his death was now only a question of a few hours.

"I must go, and at once," said Theodore Roosevelt. And soon a light
wagon drove up to the club-house, and he leaped in. There was a short
good-by to his family and his friends, the whip cracked, and the drive
of thirty-five miles to the nearest railroad station was begun.

It was a never-to-be-forgotten journey. For ten miles or more the road
was fearfully rough and ran around the edges of overhanging cliffs,
where a false turn might mean death. Then at times the road went down
into deep hollows and over rocky hills. All was pitch black, save for
the tiny yellow light hanging over the dashboard of the turnout.
Crouched on the seat, Mr. Roosevelt urged the driver to go on, and go on
they did, making better time during that rain and darkness than had
before been made in broad daylight.

At last a place called Hunter's was reached, and Theodore Roosevelt
alighted.

"What news have you for me?" he asked of a waiting messenger, and the
late