Then, womanlike, she gave herself up for a moment to wild surmisings. Had she waited too long? Would this message reach him in time to get his men to Exeter to stop this invasion? After all, had she followed the right course. Would it not have been better to have stopped the whole thing at its inception, rather than let it attain this amazing growth that threatened to be overwhelming. But time was short. Already Von Papen had received the telegram and she must wire the Chief of developments. Her fingers tapped the keys once more. She had the consolation of knowing that the Chief's men had covered all other camps along the border. This one camp had depended on her, and Harrison Grant and his men were dependent on her. As soon as the Chief received her wire his message would go back to the other camps ordering instant action. But here--at Exeter--no one could foresee the result. The afternoon light was fading in the dim station as Dixie crept out. She took the road to the gorge, stepping into shadows as wagons lumbered past with cargoes that she dreaded to guess at. A great purring car slid past and she heard Madam Stephan's laugh tinkle out on the night air. A sudden activity had sprung into being. Everywhere were wagons, rumbling through the night and men hurrying past on strange and unwonted errands. From the friendly shadow of a boulder Dixie looked down upon the will-o'-the-wisp lights of the camp and the greater glow of the windows of the main camp building. The shadowy outlines of wagons against the darkness of the night, rumbling into the camp yard, the silhouettes of men at the loading doors, carrying the long boxes filled with rifles for Germany's army in America! A lump rose in Dixie's throat and she clenched her hands in a passion of earnestness. "Make Grant get here in time!" she prayed. "He must get here in time!" The thought brought to her the need of being on the alert at the station for messages. She rose quickly and leaving the lights of the camp hurried back over the dark road to the little station. She let herself into the little office and seated herself before the telegraph instrument, signalling for the relay station at Buffalo. She waited impatiently for a moment and then heard the answering call. She tapped her message. "Anything for Ex-x?" The long silence that followed was finally broken by the clatter of the instrument. "Nothing." Dixie sank back in the chair. Her message had gone through hours before, certainly by this time Grant should have received it and answered. But the instrument was clicking again--calling for Exeter. "Ex--ex--exexexex--ex--exexex." "O.K. Ex--go ahead," Dixie tapped in an agony of impatience. The sounding key snapped back. "Hello Ex--thought I'd tell you--wire trouble between here and New York. Ought to clear up soon."