“D-d-dun’no’s I’d disturb him to-day,” says he. “He’s doin’ somethin’ special, and he’s apt to take a dislike to anybody that in-interrupts him.”
“Oh,” says Collins. “I better put it off, then.”
“Calc’late so,” says Mark.
“Well, guess I’ll start along. I’m going to be here a few days—up at Larsen’s. Come to see me.”
We said we would, and he started on down the stream.
As soon as he was out of sight Mark got up quick—quicker than I’ve seen him move in a dog’s age—and ran down-stream maybe fifty feet, and then, right at the edge of the water, he stooped over and picked something up. From where I was I could see it was yellow. He sat right down and put it on his knee and began smoothing it out. We hurried over to see what he was up to.
“What you got?” Tallow asked.
Mark grinned and held up a yellow piece of paper.
“Telegraft,” says he. “G-guess it’s the one Billy b-b-brought.”
“Collins drop it?” I wanted to know.