My blundering apology and evident embarrassment deepened Miss Cullen’s blush fivefold, and she explained, hurriedly, “I found I was tired, and so, instead of writing, I went to my room and rested.”
I suppose any girl would have invented the same yarn, yet it hurt me more than the bigger one she had told on Hance’s trail. Small as the incident was, it made me very blue, and led me to shut myself up in my own car for the rest of that afternoon and evening. Indeed, I couldn’t sleep, but sat up working, quite forgetful of the passing hours, till a glance at my watch startled me with the fact that it was a quarter of two. Feeling like anything more than sleep, I went out on the platform, and, lighting a cigar, paced up and down, thinking of—well, thinking.
The night agent was sitting in the station, nodding, and after I had walked for an hour I went in to ask him if the train to Phœnix had arrived on time. Just as I opened the door, the telegraph instrument began clicking, and called Ash Forks. The man, with the curious ability that operators get of recognizing their own call, even in sleep, waked up instantly and responded, and, not wishing to interrupt him, I delayed asking my question till he should be free. I stood there thinking of Madge, and listening heedlessly as the instrument ticked off the cipher signature of the sending operator, and the “twenty-four paid.” But as I heard the clicks ..... .... which meant ph, I suddenly became attentive, and when it completed “Phœnix” I concluded Fred was wiring me, and listened for what followed the date. This is what the [instrument ticked]:—
... .... . . .. .. .-. .-. .. .. .- ...- .- ..... .- ..
.. . . . ..- -. - .. .. .- ... .... .-. . . . .. -.- ...
.- . .. .. ... . . . -. .- -... . .- - . .. .- .. --
. .. . . .- -.. ... - .- - .. . . -. - .... . .. . .
.-. . . . .. - .. .. .-. .. ...- . - . . -.. .- .. .. - . .
- - . . - - . .. .- .. -. .- . .. . .. .. ...- .. -. --.
.-. . .. . . - - ..... .... . . . -. .. .-.. ..... . .. .
..... .- . .. . -.. - . . .. - - - - . -.. .. .- - . -- .. ..
... . . .. ...- . ..... . . .. . - - ..... - . . . .. .. ..
- - .- -. -.. .- - - ..- ... .. ... ... ..- . -.. - . .
-. .. --. .... - -... .. .. -.-. ..- -.. --. . .-- .. --
... . . -. ... .. --. - .... . . . -.. . . . .. . .
.. . .- - - .....
That may not look particularly intelligible, but if the Phœnix operator had been talking over the ’phone to me he couldn’t have said any plainer,—
“Sheriff yavapai county ash forks arizona be at [railroad] station three forty five today to meet train arriving from phœnix prepared to immediately serve peremptory mandamus issued tonight by judge wilson sig theodore e camp.”
My question being pretty thoroughly answered, I went back and continued my walk; but before five minutes had passed, the operator came out, and handed me a message. It was from Fred, and read thus:—
“Camp, Baldwin, and lawyer went at once to house of Judge Wilson, where they stayed an hour. They then returned with judge to station, and after despatching a telegram have taken seats in train for Ash Forks, leaving here at three twenty-five. I shall return with them.”
A bigger idiot than I could have understood the move. I was to be hauled before Judge Wilson by means of mandamus proceedings, and, as he was notoriously a G. S. judge, and was coming to Ash Forks solely to oblige Mr. Camp, he would unquestionably declare the letters the property of Mr. Camp and order their delivery.
Apparently I had my choice of being a traitor to Madge, of going to prison for contempt of court, or of running away, which was not far off from acknowledging that I had done something wrong. I didn’t like any one of the options.