“Oh! a telegram?” demanded the man, in surprise. “Well, that’s my name,” and he put his hand out for the envelope.
“Sign here,” said the boy, and after he had gotten the signature in his book he gave up the message and went out.
“Look!” gasped Tavia, clinging to Dorothy’s hand.
All four of the young people watched covertly the man behind the window. They saw him tear open the envelope and read the message curiously. Then his heavy, dark face changed and curiosity was blended first with amazement and then with something very like fear.
He started to tear the message up. Then he got to his feet and his face began to pale. Dorothy and the others watched him in wonder and some alarm.
Finally the man grabbed his hat brim and pulled it down over his eyes. He strode out of the place and down the steps, without looking at the boys and girls, and started straight for the railroad station.
As he went his trembling fingers relaxed and the telegraph message dropped at Dorothy’s feet.
“What do you know about that?” whispered Nat. “We sent him that message.”
“What?” demanded Dorothy, and snatched it up.
She uncrumpled the sheet of yellow paper and read in the crooked letters of the old typewriter which the local operator used: