“Don’t let her mix with the others until she’s entirely well,” Teddy went on. “We don’t want any more sickness on our hands. Well, see you boys in the morning. Coming in, Roy?”
“Not just yet. I want to—”
Roy had been facing Nick while he was talking, and now he stopped suddenly and whirled about. From around the corner of the bunk-house came the clatter of a pony’s feet. The five men stood perfectly still, waiting. The rider appeared, flashing through the night like an apparition. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and Teddy noticed that he rode not straight up, but leaning to the left.
Close to the five punchers he swung. When he got opposite them, he yelled something and tossed a light stick at Roy. Fluttering from the stick was a piece of white paper. The next moment the rider had swept out of sight behind the bunk-house. The beating of his pony’s feet upon the hard earth sounded loud, then the noise grew gradually fainter and at last died away in the distance. He went as he had come.
Teddy stooped forward and picked up the stick with the paper tied to it. He walked into the bunk-house and held it under the lamp. The others crowded around eagerly. Teddy spread the paper out. On it were scribbled the words:
“Bardwell Manley:
“If you press the charge against those men at Hawley you’ll get yours with interest. Take our advice and let it drop if you want to stay healthy. We mean what we say.
“Reltsur.”