Part 41 (1/2)

”Sure. I'm on the water wagon, though,” he added blandly, with no suggestion of a deep meaning in his tones.

An hour afterward Drummond met Heine on the street and handed him a sealed envelope. ”Give that to Jerkline Jo,” he commanded shortly.

”Gotcha!” drawled Heine, and slouched on up the street.

”Confound it!” Drummond grumbled to Lucy little later. ”Why in thunder doesn't Tweet put a telephone line to civilization? We're wasting time!”

”Couldn't do anything, anyway, till Jo's on her feet again,” the girl practically pointed out. ”Don't be overimpatient.”

Eight days later Heine Schultz faced them again.

”Jo's still too sick to write,” he announced. ”But she's gettin'

better right along. She told me to tell you that what you wrote was fierce, and that you was too greedy. That's only what Jo said. Don't take it out on me. She said she'd be willin' to let you have a fourth, over an' above all expenses.”

”Well, she'll do nothing of the sort!” Lucy cut in hotly.

”Come around later, Heine,” put in Drummond. ”I'll have another note.”

”Gotcha!” replied Heine, and picked up a rifle to sight at a target before strolling nonchalantly on.

Two miles out of town next morning Heine took out his pocketknife and slit the envelope covering the note that Drummond had given him to be delivered to Jerkline Jo.

”M'm-m!” he mumbled, reading slowly, a great calloused forefinger following the lines.

You'll come to our terms immediately, or our copy of the instructions goes into the fire. We've reached the end of our rope, and won't monkey any longer.

Take your choice, Miss Modock--or Miss Jean Prince--half or nothing. Yes, we're just ornery enough to rob ourselves to spite you.

Heine scratched his head and muttered: ”Lord, be merciful unto me, a skinner! Now what'll I say to that? Guess I'll stretch this trip out to twelve days--we c'n have a breakdown or somethin'.”

It was indeed twelve days before the outfit was again seen in Ragtown; and then Mr. Schultz had this to say to Drummond and the girl:

”Jo says she'll be about pretty soon now, and she'll come over with us next trip and see you herself. Says for you not to do anything rash, or anything like that. What'll I tell her?”

”Tell her to hurry up!” Drummond said angrily.

”Gotcha!” drawled Heine, and betook himself to camp.

Ten days later Mr. Schultz had this to report:

”Well, sir, Jo she just naturally had a terrible relapse. Doctor's worried blue about 'er. She can't talk, and she can't see to read.

She just lays there and gasps somethin' fierce.”

”What on earth has she?” cried Lucy.

Heine scratched his head. ”The doc said it was a kind o' complication or somethin'. Dip'theria and appendiseetus, I think he said. Yes, sir--that's it. Dip'theria and appendiseetus.”

”Ridiculous!” scoffed Lucy. ”Did they operate?”

”Operate! I should say they did! They whittled that woman down to such a frazzle and when the doc goes to see her in the mornin' he has to shake the sheets to find her!”