“My God,” said the big policeman. “Think of the weeks I spent toiling up here, and now you come along and talk across that distance without the loss of a minute’s time. Wonderful, well I reckon.”
“When Captain Jameson arrives,” said Frank, smiling, “I want you to stand close and I’ll translate what he says, and you help me with the replies, will you?”
“Won’t I be interrupting you?”
“Oh, no,” smiled Frank. “You just come close and wait until I speak. It’ll be all right. Well”—as the receptor began to click—“I guess this is Captain Jameson now. Yes,” with a nod, “it’s he, all right. He’s asking where you are, Mr. MacDonald.”
“Tell him I’m four hundred miles away and close on Lupo. Tell him about yourselves and the fight, and that we’re going to round up Lupo’s gang and ask him how soon he can send men to help me out with any prisoners we take, and if he can send any at all, and—”
“One minute,” said Frank. “I understand. Just wait a bit now, while I telegraph.”
To explain at length the details of that telegraphic conversation is unnecessary. Suffice it to say, that the situation was fully explained to Captain Jameson, and that the latter agreed to start a half dozen deputies under a Sergeant to MacDonald’s aid, as soon as he should hear again as to the outcome of the expedition against Lupo.
“It’ll take a while for the men to reach MacDonald,” said Captain Jameson. “But with game plentiful and the season open, he can camp until they arrive, and thus keep watch over his prisoners, providing he makes any. You people go ahead with your rounding up of Lupo’s gang, and then let me hear from you again.”
On that agreement, Frank finally closed the conversation, as there was nothing further to be said.