CHAPTER XXVII—COMPLETE TRIUMPH.
CHAPTER XXVII.
COMPLETE TRIUMPH.
Frank found the letter thrust under the door of his room at the hotel in Prescott. He was reading it over and over when Brad Buckhart, wearing a long, doleful face, came into the room.
“You don’t find no trace whatever of my pard, do you, Frank?” he asked.
“I have a letter from him here,” said Frank.
“What?” shouted the Texan, electrified by Merry’s words. “A letter from him?”
“Yes.”
“Why should he write a letter? Why didn’t he come himself, instead of doing that?”
“Well, from what he says in the letter, I fancy it is impossible for him to come,” said Merry. “Here, Buckhart, read it and see what you make of it.”