"Well," said Ike, who was performing the responsible duty of door-keeper, "you can't see him, not now. What's required?"
"I guess it's pretty important," the stranger said.
"It's a telegram. In fact, it's bad news, so Mr. McIntyre of Big River said."
"Bad news!" exclaimed Ike. "Mighty bad time to bring bad news. Why couldn't you wait?"
"Some things can't wait," said the man briefly. "Guess you'd better read it, it's open."
"Not me," said Ike, shrinking from this liberty. "Send for The Kid."
In a few moments The Kid appeared and, taking the telegram from Ike, read it.
"The Lord help us!" he exclaimed as he read the wire. He took Ike to one side away from the crowd and read him the words: "'Your mother seriously ill. Doctors hold out no hope of recovery. Signed, BROWN.'"
"His mother! Say, boss, what'll we do? He thinks a mighty lot of his mother. I've heerd him talk. This will purty nigh kill him, I guess."
They stood for some moments looking blankly at each other, unwilling to deliver the blow which they knew would strike deep into the heart of the man they had come to love.