The boy drew a yellow envelope from his pocket, and Locke snatched it with that queer, sinking feeling which an unexpected missive of the sort usually arouses. Tearing it swiftly open, he brought forth the sheet and unfolded it with a single motion.
As his eyes took in the contents at a glance, he drew his breath swiftly, his face turning a shade less brown. The message had been sent from Billings, Texas, that morning. It read:
Father is dying. Come at once. I am all alone.
Janet.
CHAPTER XXXIV
NOTHING ELSE POSSIBLE
“Any answer?”
Lefty raised his head and stared stupidly at the boy for an instant. Then he came to himself.
“Yes! Give me a pencil—quick!”