“Well, well, what is it?”
“Mr. Osterman's looking for you, sir, you and Mr. Harran. Vanamee, that cow-boy over at Derrick's, has just come from the Governor with a message. I guess it's important.”
“Hello, what's up now?” muttered Annixter, as they turned back.
They found Osterman saddling his horse in furious haste. Near-by him was Vanamee holding by the bridle an animal that was one lather of sweat. A few of the picnickers were turning their heads curiously in that direction. Evidently something of moment was in the wind.
“What's all up?” demanded Annixter, as he and Harran, followed by Presley, drew near.
“There's hell to pay,” exclaimed Osterman under his breath. “Read that. Vanamee just brought it.”
He handed Annixter a sheet of note paper, and turned again to the cinching of his saddle.
“We've got to be quick,” he cried. “They've stolen a march on us.”
Annixter read the note, Harran and Presley looking over his shoulder.
“Ah, it's them, is it,” exclaimed Annixter.