Searle did not return. She had felt he would not. She was certain her money was gone.
At dusk a messenger boy arrived with the briefest note, in Bostwick's familiar hand.
"Sudden, urgent call to the claim. No time for business. Back as soon as possible. With love and faith, yours, SEARLE."
How she loathed his miserable lie!
CHAPTER XXXIX
ALGY'S COOKING AND BETH'S DESPAIR
Van and the new supply of provender arrived together at the tent where the partners made their temporary home. It was nearly dusk, the mellow end of a balmy day. Gettysburg, Napoleon, and Dave were all inside the canvas, filling the small hollow cube of air with a mighty reek from their pipes, and playing seven-up on a greasy box. The Chinese cook was away, much to Van's surprise.
"Gett," he said, throwing off his belt and revolver, "if Nap was to deal the cards on your tombstone, on the day of Gabriel's trump, I'll bet you'd break the crust and take a hand. What have you done with Algy?"
"He's went to git a job," said Gettysburg. "He called us all a lot of babies. I doggone near kicked him in the lung."