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"Kit, run around to the front door and see if there is a message there
for us from our friends the Demons."
In a moment Kit was back, holding a piece of paper in his hand.
Ted took it from him, and read it.
It was the third and last warning. It said:
"TED STRONG: We have warned you twice before to leave this part of
the country, but you have made no move to do so. This is the third
warning. If you are not away from here in a week the vengeance will
fall upon you. Beware!
"THE FLYING DEMONS."
"Did you bring this?" asked Ted, of the wretched youth, who still lay
upon the ground groaning from his numerous wounds.
There was no reply. The fellow could only toss his head from side to
side and rub his legs, into which the bulk of the shot had been fired by
the excited Chinaman.
"You won't answer, eh? Well, we'll find a way to make you. I'm glad
you've given us a week," said Ted, laughing. "That will at least give us
time to hold our round-up and festivities."
"Oh, if I live through this I'll never go into anything like it again,"
moaned the youth upon the ground.


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