mance, you give me a plain American, out of the Northwest, via Kentucky, Kansas, and California! Give me. . ."
"Teleglam, Missie!" came a soft, sing-song voice from the door, and Yat, the old Chinese servant, waddled in, giving a yellow envelope to Bertha.
She tore it open rapidly, read, and rushed over to her father.
"Dad! Dad!"
He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Hello, little fellow! What's all the excitement?"
"Oh, Dad! Baron von Götz-Wrede is coming to America! He's going to come West, to Spokane!"
Martin Wedekind did not reply. Rather pityingly he looked at Tom Graves, who was moodily studying the pattern in the claret-colored Saruk rug.
But the German baron's cable was not the only one which was flashed over the Western wires that night. For when Tom returned to his room at the Hotel Spokane he found there a telegram, dated Berlin, offering him half a million dollars spot cash for control of the Yankee Doodle Glory.
It was signed: "Johannes Hirschfeld & Co., G. M. B. H."
