In the Midst of Alarms

I say, Renny, he wailed, it’s another of those cursed telegraph messengers. Go, like a good fellow, and sign for the dispatch. Sign it ‘Dr. Renmark, for R. Yates.’ That will give it a sort of official, medical-bulletin look. I wish I had thought of that when the other boy was here. Tell him I’m lying down. He flung himself into the hammock, and Renmark, after a moment’s hesitation, walked toward the boy at the fence, who had repeated his question in a louder voice. In a short time he returned with the yellow envelope, which he tossed to the man in the hammock. Yates seized it savagely, tore it into a score of pieces, and scattered the fluttering bits around him on the ground.