They found themselves in a sparse
pine forest where walking was easy. By nightfall they were out on an
open prairie, and at midnight they came to the trading post at Legrue.
The trader blinked as he responded to their knocks. In response to
Payne's request for information as to the nearest telegraph office he
stared stupidly.
"Where in the name of alligators you been wadin', boys?"
"Devil's Playground."
The trader winked.
"All right, boys, I ain't askin' no questions. If you say Devil's
Playground, all right." He winked again. "I ain't no snooper. Come
in."
"How far to the nearest telegraph office?" repeated Payne.
"Why, that's twenty miles, up to Citrus Grove, where the railroad ends.
You can make it easy to-morrow."
"Good walking?"
"Just like this all the way."
"Higgins, you stay here and rest."
And Higgins growled in response: "Come on!"
In the middle of the afternoon of the next day the operator at Citrus
Grove spent five minutes in waking Payne. He had been paid five
dollars to perform the feat when a reply should arrive to the long
telegraph Roger had sent to his lawyer, when at dawn he and Higgins had
stumbled into the station. The reply was quite satisfactory:
"Deal closed with Southern Cypress Company. Thirty dollars an acre.
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