too blank bad! His
mother, eh? My team? Certainly. There they are, fit for a good dozen an
hour. Put 'em right in."

In ten minutes Bill's team, the pride of his heart, were hitched to the
buckboard.

"All right, Bill," said Ike, taking the reins.

"All right, Ike," replied Bill. "Their skin don't say much, but they
can talk with their feet a few. Let 'em go. They won't run away."

The performance of Bill's bony, shaggy team more than justified their
owner's promise. They did "talk with their feet," and to such good
purpose that in less than two hours Shock stood at the door of his
Convener's house, his mind bewildered, his senses numbed from the
terrible strain through which he had passed.

"Come in, my dear fellow," said the Convener, who had evidently been
expecting him, "come right in."

But Shock stood at the door. "Is there any word?" he enquired, with a
voice void of all emotion.

"Nothing further."

"When does the train go?"

"The train? Oh, at two in the morning."

"How long does it take?"

"Five days."

"Five days!" echoed Shock, in a voice of despair.

"You might wire a message in the meantime," said the Convener kindly.
"We will go down to the telegraph office after you have had a rest and
a cup of tea."

"No, no," said Shock, turning eagerly from the door. "I am all right;
cannot we go now?"

At the telegraph office a number of men stood laughing and talking.
Shock drew a blank sheet toward him and set himself to compose his
wire. Again and again he made the attempt, but at length he put down
the pen and looked around piteously at his friend. "I cannot say it!"
he exclaimed in a hurried whisper.

"Come outside a minute," said the Convener, taking his arm. "Now tell
me what you want to say and perhaps I can help you."

"Oh!" cried Shock, wreathing his great fingers an his agony. "I want to
say goodbye--No, no, not that! I want to tell her--give her my love and
say I want to see her. She will be wanting me." His breath began to
come in great heaving sobs.

"Let me try," said his friend. "You stay out here."

After some moments the Convener returned and handed Shock a paper on
which he had written: "God keep you, mother dear. My heart's love to
you. Shall I come?"

"Will that do?" he asked.

"Yes, yes; thank you. That is good."

"Now," said the Convener, when they had reached the house, "you must
rest."

"I am not tired," said Shock, as if in surprise.

"My dear fellow, you