“Well,” said the lad, “I’ve had a hunt and a half for you. Here’s a telegram.”
“How in the world did you find out where I was? Nobody has my address.”
“That’s just the trouble. It would have saved somebody in New York a pile of money if you had left it. No man ought to go to the woods without leaving his address at a telegraph office, anyhow.” The young man looked at the world from a telegraph point of view. People were good or bad according to the trouble they gave a telegraph messenger. Yates took the yellow envelope, addressed in lead pencil, but, without opening it, repeated his question:
“But how on earth did you find me?”
“Well, it wasn’t easy;” said the boy. “My horse is about done out. I’m from Buffalo. They telegraphed from New York that we were to spare no expense; and we haven’t. There are seven other fellows scouring the country on horseback with duplicates of that dispatch, and some more have gone along the lake shore on the American side. Say, no other messenger has been here before me, has he?” asked the boy with a touch of anxiety in his voice.
“No; you are the first.”
“I’m glad of that. I’ve been ‘most all over Canada. I got on your trail about two hours ago, and the folks at the farmhouse down below said you were up here. Is there any answer?”
Yates tore open the envelope. The dispatch was long, and he read it with a deepening frown. It was to this effect:
“Fenians crossing into Canada at Buffalo. You are near the spot; get there as quick as possible. Five of our men leave for Buffalo to-night. General O’Neill is in command of Fenian army. He will give you every facility when you tell him who you are. When five arrive, they will report to you. Place one or two with Canadian troops. Get one to hold the telegraph wire, and send over all the stuff the wire will carry. Draw on us for cash you need; and don’t spare expense.”
When Yates finished the reading of this, he broke forth into a line of language that astonished Renmark, and drew forth the envious admiration of the Buffalo telegraph boy.