“Are you actually at Border City?” broke in Bob.
A squeaky laugh came distinctly over the wire.
“Got the best in the Carroll Inn. Oh, but don’t I feel sorry for you poor chaps? How is Lone Pine, an’ longhorns? Do you believe in the recall of Cran Beaumont? What’s the Referendum, anyway?”
“Did you walk all the way across the plain, Willie?”
“Sure! Every time I thought of Mr. Clifton it made me jump ten feet. Ha, ha! Has he grown any since I left?”
“We’re coming over after you to-morrow, Willie.”
“But you won’t get William Brinton Sloan, P. G. S. I declare war.”
“We’ll try our arbitration board, then,” laughed Bob.
“Won’t do a bit of good.”
Just as Bob began to speak again, a peculiar buzzing sound came over the wire. It was broken by a jumble of words and occasional little crackles, and his energetic calls brought forth no response.