An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a sealed envelope. "Give that to Jerkline Jo," he commanded shortly.
"Gotcha!" drawled Heine, and slouched on up the street.
"Confound it!" Drummond grumbled to Lucy little later. "Why in thunder doesn't Tweet put a telephone line to civilization? We're wasting time!"
"Couldn't do anything, anyway, till Jo's on her feet again," the girl practically pointed out. "Don't be overimpatient."
Eight days later Heine Schultz faced them again.
"Jo's still too sick to write," he announced. "But she's gettin' better right along. She told me to tell you that what you wrote was fierce, and that you was too greedy. That's only what Jo said. Don't take it out on me. She said she'd be willin' to let you have a fourth, over an' above all expenses."
"Well, she'll do nothing of the sort!" Lucy cut in hotly.
"Come around later, Heine," put in Drummond. "I'll have another note."
"Gotcha!" replied Heine, and picked up a rifle to sight at a target before strolling nonchalantly on.
Two miles out of town next morning Heine took out his pocketknife and slit the envelope covering the note that Drummond had given him to be delivered to Jerkline Jo.