"All right," said the man, indifferently. "Put down the names if you like. You want to take it to your friend? We don't deliver any telegrams."
"I want to know w'en hit comes." said Larkin. "We're hall in on w'ot it says."
"You've got no right to do that, Lefty" said Stone as they went out. "If the doctor, or whoever he sends, gets there while we're away and the telegram comes, you won't get to see it, anyway."
"I'm takin' the chance," said Larkin. "What right 'as 'e to be so bloomin' mysterious with 'is bloody tellygrams? I'll find hout w'ot's in it. I'm goin' to myke a pal of that hoperator."
They camped near the town on the banks of the stream, going in two or three times to see about their burros. On the second morning two telegrams arrived: one for Stone with the news of transfer of his remittance, and the other for Healy.
"Came just after the sanitarium jitney was here," said the operator with whom, as Larkin had promised, he was on social terms. "Want to take it up? I can telephone it, you know."
"Phone it up now," suggested Larkin.
"It's a short one," said the man as he got his connection.
The three of them listened as he transmitted the message. It was from Calexico, it was signed Castro, and it contained one word.
"Bueno."
"Then the deal's on," said Larkin, and they went out.
