eading to the horizon, and the
bands of Sioux and Cheyennes galloping down, their great war bonnets
making splashes of color against the thin blue sky. Dick was thinking of
Pendleton, the peaceful little town in Kentucky that was his home, and
of his cousin, Harry Kenton. He did not know now where Harry was, and he
did not even know whether he was dead or alive.

Dick sighed a little, and just at that moment the telegraph key began to
click.

"The answer is coming!" exclaimed the young operator excitedly and then
he bent closer over the key to take it. The three chairs straightened
up, and they, too, bent toward the key. The boy wrote rapidly, but the
clicking did not go on long. When it ceased he straightened up with his
finished message in his hand. His face was flushed and his eyes still
shining. He folded the paper and handed it to Dick.

"It's for you, Mr. Mason," he said.

Dick unfolded it and read aloud:

"Colonel John D. Newcomb:

"Congratulations on your success and fine management of your troops.
Victory worth much to us. Read dispatch to regiment and continue
westward to original destination.

A. LINCOLN."

Dick's face glowed, and the sergeant's teeth came together with a little
click of satisfaction.

"When I saw that it was to be read to the regiment I thought it no harm
to read it to the rest of you," said Dick, as he refolded the precious
dispatch and put it in his safest pocket. "Now, sergeant, I think we
ought to be off at full speed."

"Not a minute to waste," said Sergeant Whitley.

Their horses had been fed and were rested well. The three bade farewell
to the young operator, then to almost all of Hubbard and proceeded in
a trot for the pass. They did not speak until they were on the first
slope, and then the sergeant, looking up at the heights, asked:

"Shall we have snow again on our return, Red Blaze? I hope not. It's
important for us to get back to Townsville without any waste of time."

"I hate to bring bad news," replied Red Blaze, "but we'll shore have
more snow. See them clouds, sailin' up an' always sailin' up from the
southwest, an' see that white mist 'roun' the highest peaks. That's
snow, an' it'll hit the pass just as it did when we was comin' over. But
we've got this in favor of ourselves an' our hosses now: The wind is on
our backs."

They rode hard now. Dick had received the precious message from the
President, and it would