.

Good News.
Pink rolled over in his bed so that he might look--however sleepily--upon his fellows, dressing more or less quietly in the cool dawn-hour.
"Say, I got a letter for you, Weary," he yawned, stretching both arms above his head.

"I opened it and read it; it was from Chip, so--" "What did he have to say ?" "Old Man any better ?" "How they comm', back here ?" Several voices, speaking at once, necessitated a delayed reply.
"They'll be here, to-day or to-morrow," Pink replied without any circumlocution whatever, while he fumbled in his coat pocket for the letter.

"He says the Old Man wants to come, and the doctors think he might as well tackle it as stay there fussing over it.

They're coming in a special car, and we've got to rig up an outfit to meet him.