“Oh, I hope we can go! I hope we can go!” murmured Rick. “Don’t you want to go, Ruddy?” he asked his dog. And if the joyous activity of the setter was any indication, he most certainly did want to go.
“Hum,” was all Mr. Dalton said later, when told of the new turn in events. “Well, at any rate, Uncle Tod telegraphed as he said he would. But I’d like to know considerable more of what it’s about.”
“He says he’s going to explain later,” remarked Rick. “But if you let me and Chot and Ruddy go out there, Dad, we could write back all about it.”
“I’ll see,” was all the satisfaction Rick got from his father.
“But when will you see?” persisted the lad. “Uncle Tod wants us in a hurry, or he wouldn’t have telegraphed. When will you see, Dad?”
“Oh, I’ll send him a night letter asking for more explanations,” was Mr. Dalton’s decision. “If it’s all right you can go.”
And in the morning, following the despatch of the night letter to Bitter Sweet Gulch, there came another telegram from Uncle Tod to Mr. Dalton. The contents of this message Mr. Dalton did not tell his son, but it seemed to be satisfactory, for when Rick, with eager voice asked again:
“Can we go?”
The answer was:
“Get ready!”