“Telegram for Theophilus Wingate,” announced the boy who had brought the message.
The Overlanders, peering from their tents, saw Hippy tear the envelope open, then, after a brief perusal of the contents, begin to dance about with as fine a display of temper as his companions had ever seen him exhibit.
“Uncle Hip’s got the willies,” observed Stacy Brown. “I hope he doesn’t give them to me.”
“Hey, there! What is it all about?” demanded Tom Gray, emerging from his tent.
“Yes, let us have the news. Don’t keep us in suspense any longer,” called Grace.
“News? News?” roared Hippy. “Of all the blithering idiots—of all the fool blundering that mortal man ever heard of, this is the end of the limit. What do you think?”
“Nothing!” shouted Stacy.
“It is too early in the morning for Chunky to think,” piped Emma. “You should know by this time that his mental processes never do function before breakfast, and then merely nominally.”
“Why don’t you give me the absent treatment?” suggested Stacy.
“As I began to remark, what do you folks think?” resumed Hippy. “Listen to the message from the division superintendent of the outfit that calls itself a railroad.” Hippy then read the following message to his companions: