‘Young Lane is a tough hombre,’ laughed Dave. ‘Some of Pete’s punchers probably rubbed him the wrong way. I guess the old man is kinda salty, too. Well, I’ve got to be movin’.’
‘I’m sorry about that loan, Dave; but business is business.’
‘That’s all right, John. I’m pretty near busted, but I’ll pull through.’
He laughed bitterly and hitched up his belt.
‘Mebby somebody will die and leave me a fortune.’
‘Have you any rich relatives?’
‘Only Pete—and he’s healthy.’
Dave laughed and walked out of the bank. But there was little mirth in his laugh. He stopped in at the post-office to get the ranch mail, and the clerk handed him a telegram, along with the rest of his mail.
‘I’m not sure about that telegram,’ he said. ‘It is either D. Morgan or P. Morgan, and I can’t tell which.’
Dave tore it open and glanced quickly at the telegram.