"I think, Mr. Coates, perhaps we had better wait until Mr. Dent goes down to the Mason House to see whether there is an answer to the telegram I sent Colonel North. I may have to see you again, just for a moment."
Once outside the sick room, the three soldiers stepped into the little parlor of the house.
"As postmaster, Mr. Dent, you are well enough known to have no difficulty in getting the hotel people to hand you any message that may have come for me."
Then Mr. Dent left them.
"Seat yourselves, men," urged Lieutenant Prescott, himself dropping into a chair. "Now, I think that, with three of us, we're going to have a rather easy time to-morrow if Blick really shows up at the post office. Of course, now that we've undertaken this thing, we simply can't allow ourselves to make any flukes."
"As I understand it, sir," smiled Hal Overton, "any mistakes that any of us make will form the basis of the undertaker's bill to our families at home."
"That's the best possible way of stating the case," laughed the young lieutenant lightly. "Just for the sake of being able to remain in the good old service we've got to avoid making any bad breaks while Blick is at hand."
Thirty minutes went by ere the postmaster of Mason City returned.
"Had to wait. Message just came. I brought it at once," explained Dent, whose breathing showed that he had hurried.
Lieutenant Prescott took the little yellow envelope, breaking it open.