Part 20 (2/2)
Kate opened her eyes their very widest.
”Why, where on earth did you get all that money, Harry? Is it yours?”
”Of course it's mine,” said Harry. ”I sold my gun.”
”Oh, Harry!” and the tears actually came into Kate's eyes.
”Well, I wouldn't cry about it,” said Harry. ”There's nothing to shoot now; and when we get rich I can buy it back again, or get another.”
”Got rich!” said Kate. ”I don't see how we're going to do that; especially when it's such dreadfully dry weather.”
CHAPTER XXII.
A QUANDARY.
About a week after the meeting of the Board in the Davis corn-house, old Miles, the mail-rider, came galloping up to Mr. Loudon's front gate. The family were at breakfast, but Harry and Kate jumped up and ran to the door, when they saw Miles coming, with his saddle-bags flapping behind him. No one had ever before seen Miles ride so fast. A slow trot, or rather a steady waddle, was the pace that he generally preferred.
”h.e.l.lo, Mah'sr Harry,” shouted old Miles, ”de creek's up! Can't git across dar, no how?”
This glorious news for the Crooked Creek Telegraph Company was, indeed, true! There had been wet weather for several days, and although the rain-fall had not been great in the level country about Akeville, it had been very heavy up among the hills; and the consequence was, that the swollen hill-streams, or ”branches” as they are called in that part of the country, had rushed down and made Crooked Creek rise in a hurry. It seemed to be always ready to rise in this way, whenever it had a chance.
Now the company could go to work! Now it could show the world, or as much of the world as chose to take notice, the advantages of having a telegraph line across a creek in time of freshets.
Harry was all alive with excitement. He sent for Harvey Davis, and had old Selim saddled as quickly as possible.
”H'yar's de letters and telegrums, Mah'sr Harry,” said Miles, unlocking his saddle-bags and taking out a bundle of letters and some telegrams, written on the regular telegraphic blanks and tied up in a little package.
As the mail was a private one, and old Miles was known to be perfectly honest, he carried the key and attended personally to the locking and unlocking of his saddle-bags.
”But I don't want the letters, Miles,” said Harry. ”I've nothing to do with them. Give me the telegrams, and I'll send them across.”
”Don't want de letters?” cried Miles, his eyes and mouth wide open in astonishment. ”Why, I can't carry de letters ober no mor'n I kin de telegrams.”
”Well, neither can I,” said Harry.
”Den what's de use ob dat wire?” exclaimed Miles. ”I thought you uns ud send de letters an' all ober dat wire? Dere's lots more letters dan telegrums.”
”I know that,” said Harry, hurriedly; ”but we can't send letters. Give the telegraphic messages, and you go back to the mines with the letters, and if there's anything in them that they want to telegraph, let them write out the messages, and you bring them over to Lewston's cabin.”
Harry took the telegrams, and old Miles rode off, very much disturbed in his mind. His confidence in the utility of the telegraph company was wofully shaken.
By this time Harvey had arrived on a mule, and the two operators dashed away as fast as their animals would carry them.
As they galloped along Harry shouted to Harvey, who kept ahead most of the time, for his mule was faster than Selim:
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