Ike nodded, pointing to the sack strapped to the saddle.
"He ought to start," said The Kid nervously, "That wire's two days old now. It will take till to-morrow night to reach town even if everything goes right, and every moment counts. Better go in," he continued, "and tell him the horses are ready."
Ike nodded and went toward the closed door, opened it softly, and went in. He found Shock sitting at the table gazing vacantly at the telegram in his hand as if trying to take in its meaning. He looked up at Ike as he entered and, handing him the telegram, said:
"It's my mother, Ike. Do you remember my mother?"
"Yes, I know," replied Ike, approaching him timidly and laying a hand awkwardly on his shoulder. "I don't want to presume," he continued, "but I was wonderin' if there was anyone who could help you to stand it?"
"There is, there is One, there is."
"That's all right, then," said Ike, as if an important matter had been settled. "The horses are ready."
"The horses?" said Shock, with a puzzled air.
"Yes; thought you'd want to ride to town to get to send a wire or somethin'."
"Of course I do; thank you. I'll go to her at once. What a fool I am!" He rose hastily as he spoke, changed his coat, and getting his hat and riding gloves came out to where The Kid stood with the horses.