"Whitey," said Bill, "I got somep'n' for you t' do, an' I'm 'fraid it'll take you out o' school for a while."
Whitey looked sharply at Bill for a trace of suspicion or sarcasm, but Bill's face was as blank as a Chinaman's.
"'S very important," Bill continued, "an' I think your father'd consider me justified in takin' you away fr'm your lessons." Having studied this matter all out beforehand, Bill was using larger words than usual. "I got a letter for t' be delivered t' Dan Brayton, up at th' T Up and Down Ranch, 'bout some business o' your father's. Really, I ought t' go m'self, an' see Dan pussonally, but I ain't got time. Can't spare any o' th' men, 'count o' th' roundup's comin' on. Don't see nothin' t' do, except t' make you th' messenger."
Whitey was delighted. "Where is the T Up and Down?" he asked.
"'Bout a hunderd an' fifteen miles no'thwest o' here, t'other side o' Zumbro Creek," Bill answered.
"Good!" cried Whitey. "I'll take Injun, and—"
"Wouldn't do that," Bill objected. "Dan hates Injuns, an' he'd sure be rambunctious 'bout this one."
"All right," Whitey agreed, rather reluctantly. "If I start early enough, Monty and I ought to make it some time to-morrow night."