“There, I hope you’re satisfied now,” muttered Grizzly.
“Of course I am,” chuckled the ranchman; “only I rushed a dodge on you, for the pistol isn’t loaded. You bit like a fish.”
It was the turn of Grizzly to chuckle, however. As the fellow disappeared Mason came into sight again, and the twain chuckled over the deluded ranchman whose message would not go over the wires for many hours to come.
Towards ten o’clock things quieted down. Few messages went over the wires. It was only occasionally that the clicking told off some important train report from big centers. Grizzly looked and acted uneasy. He arose and strode about the room, looking out at the stormy night, stopping dead short in reflective halts, and glancing frequently at the clock, as though he was expecting somebody or something.
“You act as if you was watching for something to happen,” suggested Mason, after a long spell of silence.
“I am,” replied the operator. “See here, Mason; you know those wires overhead, I’m thinking?”
“Like a book.”
“On the tap of eleven I send the man on the north branch home for a good stop.”
“Officially, eh?” grinned Mason.
“He’ll think so, and that answers.”