Pete said gently, "Thanks a lot, Alec." He turned to Mindy, "How about you?"
"I'll wait," Mindy said quietly.
"You're right," said Pete. "Alec, you and Cindy, and I know it's Cindy now because Mindy's been asking most of the questions, mustn't feel badly. You're better off here. Oklahoma will be no place for youngsters, or old people, until the claims are staked and everything is straightened out."
"I'd still love to go!" Cindy said defiantly.
"Now forget it!" Pete laughed. "You can't go."
"Somebody else," Cindy was half in tears, "always has all the fun!"
"Oh, Cindy!" Pete was hurt because he had hurt her, and he wanted to make up for it. "I was hoping you'd do a very important job for me here. Can you ride?"
"Can she ride!" Alec answered for his sister. "The horse hasn't been born that can throw Cindy! Mindy's a good rider too."
"Good!" Pete said. "Now, of my two roan ponies, one is about as fast as the other. I'm going to saddle both and leave one here for you. As soon as your dad and I have gone, you take the one I leave, ride to the telegraph station, and send this message to John Brent, care of Dasher and Brent, 816 Fourth Street, New York City. Say: 'The Run is on. Pete gone. All is well.' Will you do that?"