"Good!" said The Kid. "Where are you going, Ike?"
"To git the horses. He'll want to git right off. I guess I'll put him on Slipper, and I'll take the Swallow. Slipper rides purty easy, and he's a purty big man."
"All right, Ike," said The Kid. "Remember every minute is precious. Here, Mac," he continued, turning to Macnamara, who stood looking in at the door, craning his neck to see and hear what was going on, "slip around to the side door and tell Mr. Macgregor that I want him right away."
In a few minutes Shock came running out in high spirits, elated with the success of the evening. "Hello, old boy!" he cried to The Kid. "It's great, isn't it? You're a great concert conductor! What do you want me for?"
The Kid took him by the arm and led him away in silence toward the Old Prospector's shack, which stood near by.
"What's the matter, Stanton; anything gone wrong?" Still The Kid made no reply; but, walking to the door of the shack, opened it, and went in and lit the lamp. "Sit down," he said, pushing Shock into a chair. "I have something to tell you. There's—there's bad news, I'm afraid. I'll wait outside." He put the telegram down, went hastily out, and closed the door, leaving Shock to face the blow where no eye could see.
It seemed an hour to The Kid before Ike came up with the Swallow and Slipper saddled and ready for the journey.
"Where is he?" said Ike, in a whisper.
"In there," replied The Kid, with a groan. "God help him!"
"I guess He will. He ought to," said Ike gravely, "Got grub, Ike, and blankets?"