The interview was brief and conclusive; was little more than a rapid fire
of question and answer; and for the greater part the sheriff's
affirmatives were heartily eager. Yes, certainly; if the thing could be
brought to pass, he, Byers, would surely do his part. All he asked was an
hour or two in which to prepare.

"You shall have all the time there is," was the reply. "Have you a Western
Union wire here?"

"No; nothing but the railroad office."

"That won't do; they'd stop the message. How about the Inn?"

"Breezeland has a Western Union all right; wire your notice there, and
I'll fix to have it 'phoned over. I don't believe it can be worked,
though," added the deputy, doubtfully.

"We can't tell till we try," said Ormsby; and he hurried back to his car
to egg on the machinist with golden promises contingent upon haste.

Miss Brentwood found her companion singularly silent on the five-mile race
to Breezeland; but the lightning speed at which he drove the car put
conversation out of the question. At the hotel he saw her into the lift
with decent deliberation; but the moment she was off his hands he fairly
ran to the telegrapher's alcove in the main hall.

"Have you a Western Union wire to the capital direct?" he inquired.

The young man snapped his key and said he had.