Yates’ one desire now was to reach a telegraph office, and write his article as it was being clicked off on the machine. He had his fears about the speed of a country operator, but he dared not risk trying to get through to Buffalo in the then excited state of the country. He quickly made up his mind to go to the Bartlett place, borrow a horse, if the Fenians had not permanently made off with them all, and ride as rapidly as he could for the nearest telegraph office. He soon reached the edge of the woods, and made his way across the fields to the house. He found young Bartlett at the barn.
“Any news of the horses yet?” was the first question he asked.
“No,” said young Bartlett gloomily; “guess they’ve rode away with them.”
“Well, I must get a horse from somewhere to ride to the telegraph office. Where is the likeliest place to find one?”
“I don’t know where you can get one, unless you steal the telegraph boy’s nag; it’s in the stable now, having a feed.”
“What telegraph boy?”
“Oh, didn’t you see him? He went out to the tent to look for you, and I thought he had found you.”
“No, I haven’t been at the tent for ever so long. Perhaps he has some news for me. I’m going to the house to write, so send him in as soon as he gets back. Be sure you don’t let him get away before I see him.”
“I’ll lock the stable,” said young Bartlett, “and then he won’t get the horse, at any rate.”
Yates found Kitty in the kitchen, and he looked so flurried that the girl cried anxiously: