“Where ye from, stranger?” asked one of the loungers.
“Number 7 cuttin'.”
“Oh, one of Gid Ward's men?”
“Yes.”
“Say, has Ward heard about the railroad preparations?” inquired the postmaster. This query had been propounded with eagerness to every new arrival from the woods for the past three days.
“Yes.”
The interest of the men quickened, and they crowded round the newcomer.
“What does he say?”
“He hain't said anything special yet, so I heard,” replied the man. “Hain't done anything but swear so far, so they tell me.”
“Has he—has he started to come down?”