"He's worrying about that message," thought Frank, and he was right.
Andy came out with a big bag of bananas and passed the fruit around to his friends. The younger Racer lad was in a joking mood, and made funny comments of the street scenes, but, though Frank laughed, Billy hardly smiled.
"Oh, I say, now; this won't do, old man!" expostulated Andy, after they had seen a fat pug dog, led by a fleshy lady, run between the legs of a tall, thin man, tripping him up. Frank and Andy went into roars of laughter, but Billy barely smiled. "This won't do at all," went on the younger Racer lad. "What's the matter, Billy? You're as glum as a burned cork."
"Well, to tell the truth," was the answer, "I am worrying about what that telegraph operator told me. I more than half believe that Shackmiller is putting someone after me."
"What if he is?" asked Andy. "We can get the best of him. Don't worry."
"That's right," chimed in Frank. "It may have been only a coincidence after all. Don't cross a bridge until you hear footsteps approaching on horseback."
"All right, I'll try," and Billy laughed for the first time since hearing the news that disturbed him. "Maybe I'm foolish, after all, to worry."
"Of course you are," said Frank. "Brace up."
After the next day's travel they reached the prairie country, and the boundless expanse of gently-rolling land was a delight to the Racer boys, who, though they had traveled much, had never been so far West.
"Say, this is great!" cried Andy, as his eyes took in scenery that was strange to him.