"It's Sikkem," she cried, steadying herself. "He's sent in to say he's
badly shot up. He says he's located the rustlers' camp and must hand
Jeff the news before--while he has time. Jeff's gone out there,
and--Sikkem's one of the gang and escaped from Orrville four years ago."
"How d'you know?" It was Bud's heavy voice put the question. It was
full of stern command.
"I've seen him. I know him, and--he knows me. He--he wrote this and
sent it me."
Elvine thrust the crumpled note at Bud. Her gesture was almost
desperate.
"When did he send it?" Again came Bud's command.
"Days ago."
"An' Jeff--didn't know till--now?"
"I was afraid to tell him--then."
Bud and Nan read the note by the parlor lamplight. A bitter
imprecation broke from the man's lips.
"Guess I don't get it--yet," he said.
But Nan was quicker.
"He's gone to Spruce Crossing--to Sikkem?" she cried, her eyes hot as
they dwelt on the shaking woman before her. "Don't wait talking. It
don't matter the right of things. You, Daddy, get our horses fixed and
round up a bunch of boys from the bunkroom.
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