Bill looked up into the reddish-brown eyes of the little gypo queen, who stood bent forward, lips parted and dry.
“That’s what I sent,” Bill went on, “an’ Tony seemed to be gettin’ better for a spell. He wouldn’t hear o’ me comin’ down here to th’ city to see you, so I hadta stay beside ’im. Then one day come a reply, an’ I got a copy o’ that here to show ye, too.”
He produced a strip of paper, from which he read:
“Configuration mentioned not observed from this station. Later reports will follow.
“Buck.”
“An’ then eight days went by, with Tony fussin’ an’ fussin’ an’ fussin’ all th’ time, an’ then come this.”
Again Bill read from the same source:
“In further reference configuration seen by you June eighteenth no reports received from other stations.
“Buck.”
“An’ after that,” continued Bill, “Tony he give up th’ fight. Ye see,” he added with piteous earnestness, “Tony he got shot before he could take a picture, an’ he ain’t got any proof. An’ he’s out of his head now, ravin’ mad, an’ sayin’ over an’ over again: