CHAPTER XXII—NIGHT IN THE MOUNTAINS.
The sun was nearing the western horizon when at last the two girls swung from their ponies and entered the log cabin which did indeed look deserted and desolate standing alone so high on a mountain surrounded only by stunted pines.
Margaret glanced around fearfully thinking that the wild creature they had met might have selected this cabin as a safe retreat, but the place was empty.
“Good,” Virginia exclaimed brightly. “Malcolm has left us plenty to eat. Here is cold fried rabbit enough for our supper and I certainly am hungry. There are good beds for us, too. The pine boughs are fresh under the blankets. You will be surprised to find what comfortable beds Malcolm can make with boughs. He knows just how to place them one on another to make a mattress both soft and springy. Megsy, suppose you get out the sandwiches that we brought and spread them on this rustic table while I feed the ponies, and too, I’ll bring some water from a spring just above here.”
Margaret was on the verge of saying that she hoped the spring wasn’t far away, as she dreaded being left alone even for a moment, but instead she said: “Very well, Virg, I’m hungry too, and we’ll have a fine feast when you return.”
Margaret had begged Virginia to permit her to come to the mountains and so the eastern girl determined to appear brave if she succumbed in the attempt. She wondered what Babs and the other girls in boarding school would think if they could see her at that moment, and the thought so amused her that she almost laughed aloud, when suddenly, something crashed behind her and with a cry of terror she whirled about, sure that she would behold the mountain lion crouched to spring upon her, but instead she saw a small box lying on the floor beneath the open window. Believing that it had been blown from the ledge by a breeze that was rising, Margaret, with a sigh of relief, went to pick it up when she saw, fastened to it, a piece of yellow wrapping paper on which a message was scrawled in a language unknown to her. Again she was frightened. What if the rumored outlaw had reached in and had left that message as some sort of a warning for the girls.
Tiptoeing to the open window she looked out. Not a sound was to be heard nor a creature seen and yet there was the message. Where had it come from?
A moment later Virginia appeared with a pail of water. “We’ll have to hurry, Megsy,” she said, without looking at her friend, who stood in the middle of the room, pale and trembling; “that is if we are to eat our fine feast before the sun sets, and I’d heaps rather eat it by daylight than by the one lone lantern that Malcolm seems to have left for us.”
While Virginia talked, Margaret was trying to regain her courage and to the surprise she heard herself saying quite calmly: “Virg, here is a message of some sort.”
The western girl took it and exclaimed: “Oh! Malcolm’s writing.” Then, after glancing it over, she added in a matter-of-fact tone, “You see he thought one of the cow-boys would be here tonight and so he has written some directions in the Mexican lingo which we all understand.”
Margaret was greatly relieved. “Is it anything important?” she asked.
If Virginia hesitated before replying, it was for so brief a second that the eastern girl did not notice it. “Not so very,” she replied. “Malcolm expects to be back early tomorrow morning.”
Then together they sat on the rude bench by the rustic table that leaned against the wall and if Virginia seemed thoughtful, Margaret decided that it was because her responsibility was really more than a girl should assume. Had Margaret known the real character of the message left by Malcolm, she would have been unable to partake of the sandwiches and fried rabbit with the zest that she did.
Virginia after a thoughtful few moments began an assumed merry conversation and then, as soon as the sun was set, she suggested that they retire early that they need not light the lantern.
“Why?” Margaret asked, on the alert at once. “Do you fear that some one might see it and find out where we are?”
Virginia’s laugh sounded natural. “A light always attracts bugs and beetles,” she exclaimed merrily, “and we will sleep better if they stay away. I do not want to close the one window, since it has only a wooden blind and we will need the air.”
Margaret did not openly protest, but to herself she thought: “I’ll never sleep a wink, I know, with that window open, for how easy it would be for the mountain lion to spring in and eat us up before we knew it.”
But after a time, the fragrance of pine boughs lulled the tired girl to sleep, and when Virginia was sure that the slumber was not feigned, she rose very quietly and tiptoed toward the door.
CHAPTER XXIII—NIGHT PROWLERS.
Virginia, sincerely hoping that the eastern girl would not awaken, tiptoed out of the log cabin and very quietly closed the door. She was carrying the unlighted lantern and some matches. Not far from the cabin was a small cave. In this Virginia went and struck a light when she was sure that it would not be seen by anyone outside. Then opening the brown paper, she read again and more carefully what her brother, Malcolm, had written.
The property which he wished observed lay directly below the cave far down in the canyon, but it was not this part of the message which had stirred Virginia to action. It was that which followed.
“Pat Mahoy states that about a week ago while he was prospecting about here, a desert-rat sort of a man took him by surprise. He has feared ever since that the man may have suspected that the property was valuable and that he might return, so don’t sleep until we get back. Keep alert and on the watch.”
Little did Malcolm dream when he wrote that hastily scrawled message that it would be a mere girl and his most dearly loved sister who would assume the truly dangerous position of night watch.
Leaving the lantern in the cave, Virginia went out into the darkness and stood leaning against a boulder where she could not be seen but where she could observe the downward slope of the canyon.
Every half hour she went to the cabin and listened at the open window that she might be assured that Margaret was still sleeping undisturbed.
It was on her return from one of these visits to the cabin that she uttered an exclamation of dismay, for, far down in the canyon, she saw lights moving about.
What could it mean? At first she thought there were but two, but then she counted three. Tensely she watched. For a brief while the lights were close together as though whoever carried them were conferring on some plan of action. Then one of the lights seemed to settle permanently in one spot and two of them began to ascend the trail that led toward the log cabin. Virginia leaped into the cave and put out the light in her lantern. Then she sprang back to her post of observation. It would be some time before whoever was coming could reach the top of the trail. What ought she to do? What could she do?
Perhaps she ought to warn Margaret at once and yet the eastern girl would be so terrorized that it would but add to the problem confronting Virginia. Moreover, if it should be Malcolm returning, she would have frightened Margaret without reason, and so she determined to wait until she herself might be assured of the identity of the bearers of the light who seemed to be slowly ascending the trail.
At last they were near enough for Virginia, who was listening intently to hear their voices, and to her dismay, she realized that she had never heard them before. Then as the light of the lanterns was thrown upon them, although she could not see their faces, she knew from the build of each that to her they were strangers. One was of slight, graceful build and the other heavy set. They seemed to be having a heated discussion and Virginia clearly heard the younger man say: “If it’s crooked work you are up to, I’ll not go a step further.”
“You’ll do as I say,” was the surly reply.
Terrorized, when again the lanterns began to ascend the trail, Virginia sped to the cabin and awakened Margaret.
“What is it, Virginia?” Margaret asked, half awake, as she rose. “Is it a bear or the outlaw?”
“Hush! Hush!” Virginia whispered. “Be quiet as you can and follow me. There are two strange men coming up the trail. They do not mean to harm us, of course, for they do not know of our existence, but they probably plan visiting this hut, and we don’t want them to find us here. Climb through the window and then we will crouch down in the dark until we can slip away.”
Although Margaret was terrorized, the courage of her Puritan ancestors must have asserted itself, for she did just as Virginia bade her. Silently the girls crept through the small open window and hurried to a place of hiding in a clump of dwarf pines, and none too soon, for a moment later lights appeared in the cabin.
They were near enough to hear an exclamation of surprise, followed by a surly voice. “Huh! Folks been here seems like, and mighty recent. Two hats yonder belonin’ to gals, I take it. Tom, get a move on ye and find who ’twas just left here. Like as not whoever ’tis has the information we’re wishin’ to obtain.”
Evidently the one addressed as Tom didn’t move. “Stubborn again?” the voice inquired. “Then it’s myself as will hunt for whoever escaped.”
Hearing this, the frightened girls crouched lower, hoping that they would escape observation, but unfortunately, the grey of the dawn had come and Margaret’s red belt and neck handkerchief gleamed among the green pines and attracted the roving eye of the searcher.
“Wall,” he remarked, “sort of playin’ hide and seek with me, was ye? Come out now, and if ye’ll tell all ye know about what’s goin’ on around here you won’t be hurt, not one scratch.”
Virginia, holding Margaret’s hand in a firm clasp, arose, for she knew there was no other alternative. The heavy-set man was a type of which she had heard but had never before seen. She knew that he could be merciless and so with a pretence of bravery which with difficulty she assumed, Virginia led Margaret toward the cabin.
She glanced at the slight young man who stood watching them and she was sure that she saw in his bronzed face an expression of pity. Then in another moment, something very unexpected had happened.
The surly man, intent upon obtaining whatever information he could from the two girls, had forgotten for the moment that the lad, whom he had addressed as Tom, was not in sympathy with his plans. Had he chanced to glance at the youth he would have seen an expression in his eyes that would have warned him that he would better not bully the girls too much. But, for the moment the older man had entirely forgotten his companion.
When they neared the cabin, he commanded, “Turn around here, gals! Tell me all ye know about this here mining property and tell it quick.”
Virginia was defiantly silent, but Margaret, whose courage was gone, began to sob, and it was at that moment that the lad called Tom confronted the bully and in each hand he held a gun.
“Coward!” he said, “I’ll not stand by and see you frighten two mere girls. Down the trail with you and don’t so much as look back or I’ll fire.”
The man obeyed sullenly, and Tom stood leaning against the boulder to be sure that his orders were carried out. Then, turning to the girls, he said, “Young ladies, do you wish me to remain here until you are better protected or do you prefer to be alone?”
“Oh, please, please stay!” Virginia implored, for, brave as she had been, she was after all only a girl, and she had been thoroughly frightened. “My brother Malcolm, and Pat Mahoy may return at any moment now and so I am sure that you will not be long delayed.”
“It doesn’t matter how long I am delayed,” the youth said, and in his voice there was a tone of hopelessness which Virginia noted with sudden sympathy. “I’ll stand here and watch the trail for a time,” he added.
“And I will prepare breakfast,” the western girl said brightly; “then you come when it is ready.”
Half an hour later Virginia called and the lad left his post feeling sure that they were not to be molested. When he had washed at the spring he entered the hut and sat with the girls at the rustic table. Virginia liked the lad and was indeed puzzled to know why he had been in such bad company.
“You girls were brave to come up here alone,” Tom said, “Weren’t you afraid?”
“Indeed I was,” Margaret confided, “because, you see, we had heard that an outlaw is hiding somewhere on Second Peak. Do you suppose that it is true?”
“Yes,” the lad replied, “it is true. I am the outlaw.”
CHAPTER XXIV—A “TAME” OUTLAW.
When the lad called Tom calmly remarked, “I am that outlaw,” Margaret, who had supposed an outlaw to be a villain, such as she had seen in the moving pictures, did not know how to reply, but Virginia, used to the ways of the West, held out her hand to the lad and said with sweet sincerity, “Tom, I believe that you are either innocent, or that you hastily committed some act which you now deeply regret.”
“Thank you for your confidence,” the lad replied.
The eastern girl found it hard to convince herself that she was awake. Could it be that she, brought up in the most conservative manner, was really breakfasting in a log hut on a mountain peak with an outlaw? She glanced furtively at the lad and, noting a kindly expression in his face, she decided that he must be a tame outlaw and one of whom she need not be afraid.
What an exciting letter she would be able to write to Babs, and how that girl, who had always thirsted for adventure, would envy her.
Suddenly Tom leaped to his feet and listened intently. Virginia followed him as he went with long strides toward the open door.
“Two men are coming up the trail,” he reported, “but they are not the ones we so recently dismissed.”
Virginia sprang forward with a cry of joy. “Oh, it is brother Malcolm,” she exclaimed. When the young man in the lead had dismounted, he stared in uncomprehending amazement at the two girls and the strange lad.
“Virginia! Margaret! What does this mean?” he asked. He sensed at once that something very unusual had happened.
“Rusty and Slim were away,” Virginia explained, “and so we girls had to come, and oh, brother, brother, we have been so frightened, but this brave lad has been our protector.”
When the whole story had been told, Malcolm held out his hand. “You say that you are an outlaw. As you know it is the custom of the desert to ask no questions, but, Tom, you are not an outlaw from our home. From this day on, for as long as you wish to remain, I engage your services. Will you accept?”
“I do and thank you. I sincerely hope that you will find me worthy of the trust.”
“I know we will,” Malcolm declared heartily, “and, to complete your name cow-boy fashion we will call you Trusty Tom.”
An hour after the return of Malcolm and Pat Mahoy, Virginia approached her brother, saying, “Do you think it would be safe now for Margaret and me to return to the ranch? We are both very weary and believe that we could rest better at home.”
Malcolm glanced up from the rustic table where he had been so busily figuring that the time had passed unnoticed.
“I had planned returning with you,” he said thoughtfully, “but I would rather remain here a few hours longer. Where is Trusty Tom? I will ask him to accompany you home.”
“He is with Pat Mahoy,” Virginia began, when Margaret, from the doorway said, “Here he is now.” Then she called to the approaching lad, “Tom, Malcolm wishes to speak to you.” The boy at the table looked up with a welcoming smile. “If you believe that it would be safe for the girls to return home, Tom, I wish you would accompany them,” he said.
“Indeed, I will gladly,” the other lad replied, “and if need be, I will protect them with my life.”
Half an hour later the three horses left the canyon trail and started across the gleaming desert.
“I’m glad to get away from the mountains,” Margaret declared, “for out here on the open desert, we can see whoever is coming and not be surprised by friend or foe.”
“Except in one place,” Virginia added, “and that is where the trail crosses the creek bottom. The banks are so high, a whole regiment could be hiding down there and we wouldn’t know it until we were quite upon them, but I’m not anticipating trouble, are you, Tom?”
“No,” the lad replied, “not for you girls,” he added. “Surely no one on the desert would wish to harm you.”
Virginia glanced up quickly and wondered if he were fearful that someone might be watching for him. How she did wish that she could ask him to tell her all about it, but she knew that on the desert no one asked a stranger his name or destination.
An hour later, as they were approaching the spot where the trail descended into the rocky creek bottom, Tom, who was in the lead, whirled in his saddle and lifted a warning hand.
“Stay here,” he said softly, “while I ride ahead that I may be sure that it is safe for you to descend the creek trail.”
The girls did as he bade them, and while the lad rode forward, Margaret asked fearfully: “What aroused Tom’s suspicions, do you suppose?”
“Perhaps he just wishes to be cautious,” Virginia replied, but had Margaret been able to see her friend’s face at that moment, she would have known that her words were not expressing her true thought, for the western girl had also seen the something that had alarmed the lad and that something was a face peering above the bank close to the mesquite bush. It, however, had quickly disappeared when Tom started alone toward the creek trail.
Virginia delayed but one moment, and then touching Comrade with her quirt, she was soon riding at the boy’s side.
“Tom,” she said in a low voice, “I also saw that face. Do you think it is the man with whom you were last night? Is he lying in wait for us?”
“I think not,” Trusty Tom declared. “I believe whoever is in hiding is there for some other reason.”
Margaret, not wishing to be left behind, had urged Star to a gallop and rode close to Virginia. In another moment they would be able to see down the slope of the creek trail, but, before they were near enough to begin the descent horsemen appeared, coming up, and with a cry of relief, Virginia urged Comrade ahead of the others as she exclaimed to the man in the lead, “Oh, Mr. Rizor, it is only you, isn’t it? We girls have such active imaginations today.” Then, turning to Margaret, she added, “Megsy, this is the sheriff from Douglas. Mr. Rizor, these are my friends, Margaret Selover and Tom, who are from the East.”
Virginia had been thinking fast from the moment she first saw the sheriff, and yet, from the self-possessed way in which she talked none could have surmised that she was truly concerned. Her first thought had been, “Tom is a self-confessed outlaw. If the sheriff and his men are looking for him I must try to protect him as he protected us.”
“My wife told me you had a girl friend stayin’ with you from the East, Miss Virginia,” Mr. Rizor was saying, “but she didn’t mention a boy.”
As the sheriff spoke, he gazed keenly at the lad whose expression, Virginia was glad to note, did not express guilt.
“Are you looking for someone who has been breaking the law, Mr. Rizor?” the western girl asked, anxious to attract those penetrating grey eyes from Tom.
“Yes, that’s who we’re after,” the sheriff replied. “Two nights ago, the Number Six Limited was held up in Rattlesnake Canyon and the mail car was robbed. The track walker reported that he had seen two men and a lad of about eighteen, lurking around there an hour before the limited was due, and he thinks he could recognize any one of them if he could see them again.”
At that moment one of the men uttered an exclamation and pointed toward the south, where, faint and far through powerful glasses he saw two horsemen making for the Mexican border.
The sheriff took the glasses and looked through them intently for a long moment.
“See you again,” he called over his shoulder, as, with his men, he started in quick pursuit, and Virginia with a sinking heart, noticed that the steel grey eyes looked directly at Tom as though the words were meant especially for him.
When the sheriff and his men were gone, the three young people rode silently down the dry creek trail and up on the other side.
Tom was the first to speak.
“It was mighty good of you, Miss Virginia, to protect me the way you did,” he said, earnestly. “I am afraid however, that you believe me to be one of the three who held up the mail train, but indeed, it is not so. I was in Rattlesnake Canyon when the two men came along. I didn’t have a bite to eat and they shared with me. I told them that I was planning to walk the tracks until I reached Douglas, and that there I meant to obtain work if I could. The man, with whom you saw me later, assured me that he could give me remunerative employment if I would wait for them over at Second Peak. I did not at the time inquire the nature of the employment nor, did I know, until I heard the sheriff telling about it, that they had robbed the mail train. The next day I met the two men at the spot upon which we had agreed, and they told me what they wished me to do. I refused, saying that I did not care to do crooked work. I hope that you will believe me, for what I have told you is the truth.”
“I do indeed believe you,” Virginia exclaimed, “and if need be, we will tell your story to Mr. Rizor. Good! Here is dear old V. M. I’m glad to be home, aren’t you, Megsy? I feel as though we had been away a year. Tom, there is the bunkhouse yonder, I think Slim and Rusty Pete must be there for their ponies are in the corral. Tell them that you are our new cow-boy. They’ll like you and I’m sure that you will like them.”
When the girls had dismounted at the wide front veranda, and Tom had led their ponies back to the corral, they entered the house and Margaret sank down in a big, comfortable chair as she said with a sigh of contentment. “Well, now I am beginning to feel real once more. Honestly, Virg, I haven’t been a bit sure but that I might wake up and find either that I was a character in a Zane Grey story or that it was a dream and a nightmare at that.”
“Oh! Here’s the mail pouch!” Virginia exclaimed gleefully. “Someone has been to town.”
“I do hope that there is a letter from Babs,” Margaret said.
“I am so eager to know if she has learned more, as yet, about her lost brother, Peyton.”
CHAPTER XXV—THE SHERIFF’S VISIT.
A letter from Babs was the first one that tumbled out on the big library table when Virginia held the pouch upside down. Other papers and letters rattled out, but both girls were eager to hear the news from Margaret’s former room-mate in the far-away boarding school.
“Dearest Megsy and Virg,” Margaret read aloud.
“I’m so happy today that I could sing like a lark, but since it is silence period, I would better just pen my joy to you two dear girls, who will, I know, rejoice with me. I am just absolutely convinced now that I know where my dear brother Peyton is. Of course his messages to me continue to be mysterious; that is, he doesn’t sign his full name, only his initials. I’m sure that they must be his, for I do not know anyone else in the world whose name begins with P. and W.
“It is just as I supposed in the very beginning. He did run away to sea, for I have now received five picture postcards signed P. W., and they were mailed at different ports in China, Japan and the East Indies. I know he is sending them to me because he realizes how unhappy I would be if I had no knowledge of his whereabouts.
“I do wish that I could write to him and tell him how happy I am just to be assured that he is well and alive, but since he wishes to be so mysterious, I will have to be content.
“And now I will tell you something else. I am saving every penny of my allowance, and before I start for the West I am going to buy a whole khaki outfit like the girls wear in the moving pictures. Oh, Megsy, how you would have laughed the other day if you could have seen our French riding master’s expression when I asked him if he would try to get a horse that bucks, upon which I might practice riding.
“‘Mees Wente,’ he said, ‘how is it that you mean? A horse that bucks? In Paris we do not have heem.’
“Every girl in the riding class wanted to shout, but of course, you know Professor La Fleur is so prim and proper we couldn’t even smile.
“However, as soon as we came back from the canter, we all met in my room and made fudge and we laughed so loud and so long that Miss Pickle put her head in at the door and asked if we thought it was quite ladylike to laugh in so boisterous a manner.
“Girls, when I get out on the desert, I am going way up om the trail Virginia calls her Inspiration Peak, and I’m going to shout just as loud and long as ever I wish. I’m so tired of always having to be proper and ladylike.
“Good-bye for now.
“P. S.—Megsy, aren’t you glad that I have located my dear brother, Peyton? B. B. W.”
Before Margaret could comment about the letter, there came a sharp rap on the front door, and Virginia, springing to open it, wondered who might be there.
It was Mr. Rizor but his men were not with him. Luckily Virginia had expected that the sheriff would stop at V. M. on his way back to town and so she did not express surprise, although Margaret did. Luckily Mr. Rizor did not glance at the eastern girl, who wisely busied herself in another part of the room. “Miss Virginia,” he said, “may I come in? There’s a matter I wish to be speakin’ about.”
“Why, of course you may come in Mr. Rizor,” the girl said, opening the door welcomingly wide, “and I hope that you will remain with us for the midday meal which is about to be served.”
Evidently he had not accompanied his men to the Mexican border, and Virginia was wondering about his reason for not having done so.
“Thanks, I’ll not be stopping but a minute,” he said. “My men are following what they think is a pretty sure trail, but my presence is more needed back in town today and so I’m headin’ that way, but, bein’ as I had something very important to say to you, I thought I’d stop even though it is a mile farther.”
Virginia’s heart beat rapidly. Had the sheriff real knowledge about Tom, and had he come to arrest him? If so, she must try to save their new cow-boy, but, how could she do it? The girl had been so busy with her own anxious thoughts that she had failed to note the expression of pleased pride that appeared in the face of the sheriff.
“Well, to come to the point, Miss Virginia,” he was saying, “we’ve got company down to our house, so to speak. Little Virginia Rizor arrived yesterday and she weighs eight pounds. My wife told me whether I caught the mail thief or not, I was to be sure and stop and tell you that she wants you to come as soon as you can to see your little namesake.” Then he added, “we’re hoping that she’ll grow up to be as fine a girl as you are.”
Virginia’s relief was so great that she almost shouted for joy. “I am indeed glad, Mr. Rizor!” she said. “Margaret, did you hear that splendid news? Please tell Mrs. Rizor that my friend and I will ride into town in a very few days to see her and the darling little baby.”
When the sheriff was gone Virginia almost cried, her relief was so great.
“The queer part of it is,” she told Margaret, “I just know that Mr. Rizor believes our Tom was the lad who was with the men who robbed the mail train, but for my sake he isn’t going to say a word about it.”
“I’m not so sure,” the other girl replied as she pointed out of the window. Virginia looked and saw that the sheriff, instead of taking the trail toward town, was slowly and thoughtfully riding toward the bunkhouse.
CHAPTER XXVI—WIELDING A CAN OPENER.
When Margaret pointed out of the window, Virginia sprang up and looked down toward the bunkhouse. Was it possible that the sheriff did suspect that Tom was one of the three who were supposed to have held up the train in Rattlesnake canyon and was he about to arrest the lad? If so Virginia determined that she would try to save the young outlaw even as he had saved the girls the night before on lonely Second Peak.
She stood gazing intently out of the window ready to run to the bunkhouse if she felt that her presence were needed, but instead, when the sheriff drew rein, and hailed, it was the cow-boy Rusty Pete who appeared in the doorway. Slim quickly joined him, and, from their smiling faces and the hearty way in which they shook hands with Mr. Rizor, Virginia realized that after all the sheriff’s mission had been a peaceful one.
“He is a proud and happy father,” she said as she turned from the window, “and he wants all of his friends to rejoice with him, and so, after all, Tom is safe here, at least for the present.”
Then, glancing at the clock, she exclaimed. “It is nearly noon, and brother said that he would surely reach V. M. at that hour and I just know that he will be as hungry as a wolf.”
Virginia went to her room and Margaret to the one adjoining and they visited through the door that opened between while they changed from their khaki riding habits to fresh pink and blue gingham house dresses. Then arm in arm, they marched to the kitchen.
“You set the table, Megsy,” Virg directed, “while I produce the viands. That is easily done on the desert where we have to depend upon canned foods.”
As she talked, she climbed up on a low step-ladder in the adjoining pantry and selected several cans. “Can you open them, Megsy, while I go to the cooling cellar, and skim some nice thick cream for us?” she inquired.
Margaret looked doubtfully at the can opener which Virg was handing to her, but she replied confidently enough. “Oh, I am sure that I can. I have often seen our Dinah wield that weapon.”
“It’s easy enough,” Virg told her. “See, I’ll do this one to show you how.”
“Oh, I can do that, I am sure I can,” Megsy declared, and so Virg taking the skimmer and a big bowl, went out the back door and descended to the cool walled-in cellar where the milk was kept.
Megsy found that opening a can was not as easy as it looked. “May I help?” a pleasant voice asked and there in the open door stood the good-looking young outlaw, sombrero in hand.
Virginia, who had at that moment appeared with the cream, noted that, with his hat off, Tom’s face looked refined, even aristocratic, and she was more puzzled than ever concerning the identity of their new cow-boy guest.
“Oh Tom,” Margaret looked up, her face flushed from the unusual exertion. “Some good fairy must have told you that we are in dire need of a strong arm. Do you know how to wield this weapon, commonly called a can opener?”
“Indeed, I do,” was the quick reply. “I have often camped in the hills at home and so I am quite an expert at the culinary art.”
Virginia made a mental note. Wherever Tom came from there also were hills. Hanging his sombrero on a rack near the door, Tom took the weapon and dexterously opened one can after another.
“This surely is a varied menu,” he laughingly exclaimed when the task was done. “How many cans have you allowed for each boarder?”
Malcolm came in before Virg could reply, and after having washed at the pump on the back porch and rubbed his head well with the big rough towel that was daily renewed, he took from his pocket a comb and looking into the small mirror, he made himself presentable.
He then went to his room for a moment’s rest and when he was gone, Virg inquired. “By the way, Tom, how did you like our cow-boys?”
“First rate. They are fine lads,” Tom said with enthusiasm, “but their lingo is so different from that which I am used to that at times I can hardly grasp their meaning.”
“Point two,” thought Virginia. “Tom hasn’t been in the cattle country long else he would be familiar with the cow-boys’ manner of speaking.”
Oh, if one might ask questions—but the courtesy of the desert forbade it.
Tom proved a very valuable aid and in a short time Margaret was out on the back porch pulling the rope which rang a bell and called the other two cow-boys in for the noon repast.
One amusing thing happened which did not escape the watchful Virginia. Tom, eager to assume his new role of cow-boy, began eating in the manner approved in the best society, but, noting that Slim and Rusty Pete ate with their knives, a twinkle appeared in his blue eyes while he did likewise. He handled his knife, however, in a way which showed plainly that he was unused to wielding it in a manner so uncouth.
Virginia turned away to hide a smile. Of one thing she was convinced. This outlaw had a sense of humor.
Half an hour later when the dishes were washed and cleared away and the girls retired to their rooms for an afternoon siesta, Virginia confided, “Megsy, I have never before been so interested in a boy as I am in Tom, have you? Do you suppose we will ever find out who he really is?”
CHAPTER XXVII—THE NEW COW-BOY.
When the girls awakened from their siesta, arm in arm they sauntered down to the corral where they saw Tenderfoot Tom trying to ride a broncho, but without much success. He leaped to the ground when he beheld the girls and removing his hat, in a manner unknown to cow-boys, he held it while he talked. “Young ladies,” he said, “do I look important? Slim and Rusty Pete have gone with your brother to some distant part of the range and may be away until the morrow and I, if you please, am the cow-boy in charge of V. M. Ranch and no longer merely a—.”
He did not finish the sentence and Virg wondered if he had planned saying outlaw, but Margaret was finishing it for him by merrily adding, “can opener.”
“Let me prove that I really am a cook,” the lad exclaimed brightly. “Suppose you two damsels go for a canter and do not return until six o’clock, and then you shall see what you shall see.”
Catching and saddling Star and Comrade took but a few moments and then the lad stood waving his sombrero to the girls as they rode away. Ten minutes later when they had reached the top of the mesa trail, Margaret looked back. Her exclamation of surprise caused Virginia also to turn. They saw Tom with his gun over his shoulder riding away in the opposite direction. “What can that mean?” Margaret wondered. “Do you suppose that he wishes to be rid of us that he might leave the V. M. Ranch?”
“Well, if he wants to go, let him,” Virginia replied. “We will ride over to the junction and ask Mrs. Wells if she knows someone who would like to cook for us. That is the part of our home work that Uncle Tex assumes when he is here. I never knew that dear old man to stay away from V. M. for two whole months before, and now it is nearly three. He often goes for six weeks or so. I believe that he likes to roam but he gets homesick after a time and comes back for a good long stay.”
“Poor old man,” Margaret said. “Perhaps he plans staying away until he thinks I am gone. The mere idea of being my guardian evidently frightened him.”
Virginia smiled but her thought had reverted to Tom. “I can’t believe that our new cow-boy is really deserting us, and yet it did seem strange for him to ride away as soon as we were gone. However, we will find out when we return. Here is where we dip down into the dry creek bottom. At this time of the year it is perfectly safe to ride along there. It’s a short-cut to the Junction but woe to man or beast who takes it in the spring for a sudden cloud burst in the mountains changes this creek into a raging torrent before the trail leading out of it could possibly be reached.”
Margaret looked anxiously at the sky that was gleaming blue above the mountains, but not a sign of a cloud was to be seen.
Half an hour later, they reached the trail that led them again to the desert on the other side and there, near the Santa Fe tracks, stood a combination station, general store and dwelling. In it lived Mr. and Mrs. Wells and their small son, Danny.
When at their rap Mrs. Wells opened the door, she exclaimed:
“Virginia Davis, what is your brother thinking of to permit you to ride around alone these days? Doesn’t he know there’s an outlaw supposed to be hiding near here in the mountains? Folks say he is fierce looking, like a story book pirate. There’s a posse over from Texas hunting for him and a reward offered for his capture dead or alive. He’ll be caught soon, of course, but till he is, seems like you girls ought to stay pretty close to home.”
Luckily at that moment Mrs. Wells was called into the store, which opened from her living-room, and so she did not see the look of concern and amazement in the faces of her guests. “But that outlaw can’t be our Tom,” Margaret protested. “He isn’t fierce looking. He—” she said no more for their hostess was returning.
She shook her head when Virginia inquired if she could recommend someone who could cook for them. “Miss Headsley’s gal might have liked the place only she’s tuck another. She and Rattlesnake Jim got jined last week and they’re homesteadin’ a place now up her pa’s way.”
The girls refused a kindly given invitation to remain to supper and they were soon in the saddle cantering at top-speed toward V. M. Ranch. Virginia felt very anxious, she hardly knew why. If this posse was really searching for Tom, she ought to be glad if he had escaped, but it didn’t seem a bit like to him to go without even saying goodbye. She just couldn’t believe that he had done so, but, when they reached V. M., and no one came to take their horses, with heavy hearts they walked up to the house from the corral.
Virg in the lead, opened the front door and then stood staring in amazement at what she saw within.
CHAPTER XXVIII—A JOLLY SURPRISE.
“Tom!” Virginia’s manner of uttering the name seemed almost like a cry of joy and the lad who was wearing a white apron chef-fashion, turned toward the open door with a pleasant smile of greeting. If he noted the surprised expression on the faces of the two girls, he did not attribute it to its real cause. He supposed that they naturally were surprised to behold the fine supper that was spread on the living-room table which had been drawn close to the grate where a cheerful log was burning.
“Oho! What a feast!” Margaret exclaimed hurriedly, to cover their all too evident amazement at finding the outlaw calmly preparing a meal when a posse from Texas was supposed to be searching for him. “Where did you get the young rabbits that you have fried such a crispy brown?”
“I took my gun as soon as you were gone,” the lad told them, “and went a-hunting, and, as you well know, Miss Virginia, it takes only a short time in the sage to bag as many young rabbits as one may desire. Tomorrow, if we are still cooks of the V. M. Ranch, I will vary the menu by bringing in quail.”
While they were eating Tom asked: “What news did you hear while you were away, or perhaps you didn’t see anyone who had news to tell.” He was looking at Virginia and his eyes seemed to hold an eager inquiry. What should she say? Ought she to tell him the truth and give him an opportunity to ride to the north where the mountains were wild, rugged and desolate and where he could hide with greater safety?
“Yes, we did hear news,” Virginia replied. “At the Junction we heard that a posse from Texas is searching for someone who is supposed to be hiding about here.”
Then impulsively she leaned toward the lad and placed a hand on his arm as she said pleadingly, “if you were my brother I would suggest that you ride to the north where the mountains are nearly impenetrable and stay there in hiding until this search is over. I do wish that you would go, Tom, this very night.”
The lad shook his head. “I can’t go—not tonight, Miss Virginia,” he said. “You two girls are all alone on V. M. Ranch and your brother trusts me to look after you. I will stay right where I am until your brother returns or until—well—until I am found.”
When the repast had been cleared away the three young people sat about the fireplace watching the burning log. They talked little. The eastern girl felt strangely uneasy and every little while she would glance at one of the uncurtained windows as though she expected to see a face peering in at them.
At last the clock chimed the hour of nine and Tom arose. “Miss Virginia, Miss Margaret,” he said as he held out a hand to each, “I want to thank you for having been so kind and sisterly to me. Do not be concerned about me. I promise to ride north as soon as you are well protected. Goodnight.”
The two girls lay awake for hours waiting for, they knew not what. It was nearly midnight before they slept. Half an hour later Margaret sat up suddenly and listened intently. Had she heard something, she wondered, and if so, what?
Again she heard the noise which she believed must have awakened her. Someone was trying to enter the house, of that she was sure. Springing up and throwing her bathrobe about her she ran into Virginia’s room and shook her friend.
“What is it?” that girl asked, on the alert at once.
“Hark!” whispered Margaret. “Can’t you hear someone at the kitchen door?”
The western girl listened, “I surely do,” she replied, “but my dear Megsy, it must be someone who feels he has a right to come in, for he is not trying to be quiet and he is using a key.”
“Do you suppose that it is your brother, Malcolm, returning?”
“Maybe,” Virginia replied as she arose and slipped on her robe. “Whoever it is has opened the door and has entered the kitchen. I’ll light a candle and investigate.”
“Oh, Virg! Please, please don’t go out there alone! Can’t we call Tom or someone?”
But it was too late for the girls could hear that whoever had entered the house was approaching Virginia’s bedroom. Margaret clung to her friend. Even Virginia was puzzled, but the thing that gave her confidence was the fact that the intruder was not trying to be quiet. A moment later there came a tap on the door.
“Who is it?” the girl asked, and, with a sigh of relief, she recognized the voice that replied, “Miss Virginia, dearie. Don’t be skeered. It’s jest me a comin’ home after all these weeks away. It’s yo’ old Uncle Tex, Miss Virginia, dearie.”
With a cry of delight, the door was flung open and the girl embraced the kind old man who had trotted her on his knee when she was a baby and had granted her every whim, if he could, since she was grown.
“Oh, Uncle Tex, where have you been ever since you ran away just because you didn’t want to take part in the ‘play-actin’?” the girl exclaimed.
The old man told that he had been way up north on a sheep ranch. “But ah got wistful feelin’s to see my little gal,” he said, “and so ah’s come back home. They’re needin’ help up thar and they didn’t want me to leave but ah tol’ them as how ah would send a younger man to take my place if ah could find one.” Then Uncle Tex scratched his head in a puzzled manner, for he had suddenly thought of something. “Miss Virginia, dearie,” he said, “thar’s a parcel of men camped in the dry creek bottom a mile below here. They stopped me, but they let me go quick. They’re lookin’ for an outlaw from Texas, and course they knew as ah wasn’t him. Said they’d be up here in the mornin’ and ask yo’ fo’ breakfast. Wall, good night, Miss Virginia, dearie. Ah’s sure glad to be home.”
When the old man was gone, Virginia began to dress hurriedly.
“What are you going to do?” Margaret inquired. “Warn Tom!” was her reply. “Uncle Tex is here to protect us now and Tom must start for the north without an hour’s delay.”
CHAPTER XXIX—TOM’S SPEEDY DEPARTURE.
“I wish you would dress, Megsy,” Virginia said. “I would like you to accompany me.”
Ten minutes later Virginia opened the door very quietly that she might not attract the attention of the old cow-man and together the two girls stepped out into the gathering darkness.
“What a cold black night it is,” Margaret said as she drew more closely about her the woollen scarf that she had thrown over her shoulders. “Hark, what is that moaning sound?”
“It’s the wind rising. I believe we are going to have a sand storm. Let’s creep low that we may keep hidden among the mesquite bushes. The house may be watched.”
This they did until they were sheltered by a rise of grounds, then Virg said: “Take my hand now and we’ll race for the bunk house.”
Margaret felt her hand being firmly grasped and then she was fairly dragged along the trail toward the smaller adobe where the cow-boys had their quarters.
“Oh, Virg,” the eastern girl said with sudden terror, “Don’t go so fast. We might step on a rattlesnake.”
“No danger of that,” the other responded. “This is February and the snakes are still asleep in their winter homes.”
When they reached the bunkhouse Virginia darted to the side farthest from the dry creek and there she paused for breath.
A moment later she called at an open window, “Tom! Tom! Come out please, quickly.”
Puzzled by this summons at so late an hour, the lad hastily dressed and opened the door.
“Miss Virginia! Miss Margaret! What does this mean?” he exclaimed as he joined the girls. “Why are you out at this hour and on a night so cold and blustery? Were you frightened? Has anything happened at the house?”
“No, Tom. That is—yes! Well, I will have to begin at the beginning,” Virginia replied. Then she rapidly told of the coming of old Uncle Tex and of the posse that was camped in the dry creek bottom a mile below the ranch house.
Then placing her hand on the lad’s arm, she pleaded, “Tom, we girls are well protected now that Uncle Tex has come and I beg of you ride to the north where you will be much safer than you are here.”
There was no reply and Virginia wondered if the lad would refuse her request. Just then the moon appeared above Inspiration Peak, and the girls saw that in the lad’s face there was an expression of wistfulness, almost of sorrow. Impulsively he held out his hand. “Miss Virginia,” he said, “thank you for your interest in me. I don’t want to go. I am so happy here. It is the first bit of home life I have had in many a day. You girls have been so kind. If I had an own sister she could not be kinder. But there is no alternative, I suppose. You know this country better than I do, how shall I go?”
“I have thought it all out,” Virginia replied. “I lay awake for hours planning what would be best for you to do, if you had to leave suddenly, and now that Uncle Tex has come, he has given me another idea. First of all I want you to ride to the north, following a trail which I will indicate, until you come to a group of white-washed buildings. That is the Wilson Sheep Ranch. Tell Mr. Wilson that you have been sent from the V. M. Ranch, as an old cattleman called Uncle Tex said that he was in need of help. There you will be absolutely safe, I am sure. Tom, will you go?”
“Yes, Virginia,” was the reluctant reply and the girl noted, with a feeling of real pleasure, that for the first time the lad had said just “Virginia.”
“Prepare what you need,” she added hastily, “and I will make you a map of the trails you are to follow.” Then to the girl who was shivering at her side: “Come Megsy, we will return to the ranch house.”
Fifteen minutes later, Virginia arose from the old desk at which she had been busily engaged. Margaret, who had been watching at the door, beckoned to her friend. “Tom is coming,” she whispered.
Hurrying to the veranda, Virginia handed an envelope to the lad. “Take the trail due west until you reach the sand hills, then turn to the north,” she said. “You ought to reach the Papago village early in the morning and my good friend Winona will gladly give you some breakfast. Good-bye, Tom. We will see you again.”
It was this hope that the lad bore in his heart as he rode away into the darkness and increasing wind storm, and it was this hope which was to help him bear the hardships and loneliness of many a day to follow.
CHAPTER XXX—A BATTLE OF WITS.
When the girls went back into the house, Margaret exclaimed, “Pinch me, Virg, will you? I want to make sure that I am a flesh and blood person and not a character in a book. I never felt so strange and unreal before in all my life.”
Virginia laughingly placed an arm about her friend’s waist and hugged her hard. “Won’t that do as well as a pinch?” she inquired. “You are real enough, dear. Hark! The clock is striking the midnight hour. Let us return to our beds. I want to get some sleep. I must be up at a very early hour, for, as you know, we are expecting company for breakfast.
“No, indeed, Megsy,” Virginia replied. “You will be glad to learn that our culinary troubles are over.” Then noting her friend’s puzzled expression, she added gaily. “We now have with us the best cook on the desert. Uncle Tex has had charge of the ‘chuck’ wagon at all of the roundups hereabouts for many years and the cow-boys would rather have him as chef than either a Frenchman or Chinaman.”
“Good! Then our problem of finding a cook is solved,” Megsy said. Ten minutes later all was quiet in the V. M. Ranch house, for the girls, truly weary, were soon asleep.
The sun was streaming into Virginia’s room when there came a rap on the door. Springing up, the girl slipped on her robe as she called, “Who is it?”
“It’s yo’ Uncle Tex, Miss Virginia, dearie. Ah has breakfast a-started, but I thought yo’ all was a-oversleepin’ and maybe yo’d like me to call yo’.”
“We’ll be with you in a moment, Uncle Tex. Thank you for calling us,” Virginia replied.
The girls were just emerging from their bedrooms when Margaret, glancing through one of the wide living-room windows, exclaimed, “Here come six horsemen. Are they your expected guests?”
“I suppose so,” Virginia replied, and she was right. A few moments later six men of middle age and all of them with weather-bronzed faces appeared at the back door. The young hostess bade them welcome with a kindly dignity and they were soon seated about the long table at one end of the sunny kitchen. Uncle Tex was busily making the griddle cakes for which he was justly famous, while Margaret and Virginia assumed the role of waitresses.
“Don’t your cow-boys have breakfast about this hour?” a keen-eyed man evidently the leader of the posse, inquired. “I understand that there’s two as you’ve had a long time and a new one you call Tom.”
Margaret glanced quickly at the face of her friend and was glad to see that Virginia was mistress of the situation. “Yes, we have three cow-boys,” she replied with indifference. “They left yesterday to ride the range.”
This was the truth, for Tom had left just before midnight.
“Which way did they all go?” was the next question.
“I really don’t know,” was the calm reply. “It is not the custom of Lucky or Slim to tell me their plans for turning back the cattle.”
“But this other fellow, the one you call Tom: perhaps you know which way he went,” the man persisted.
“Yes, he rode toward the West,” Virginia frankly replied, and then she added, “May I serve you to more cakes?”
“A cool one for her age,” the leader of the posse thought. “Thanks,” he said aloud, “I believe I will have a few more.”
While he was eating the cakes he was trying to think of a question that he might ask the girl that would find her off her guard and perhaps obtain for him the information he desired.
Virginia was busily refilling the huge coffee cups which were used only by the cow-boys, when the leader of the posse asked in a casual manner:
“This ranch house is one of the oldest hereabouts, I understand. Have you any idea how long it’s been standing Miss Davis?”
Virginia paused a moment before replying, but she could see no possible trap in the query, and so she said:
“It was built by my grandfather. He came from the East in a prairie schooner when my dad was a boy of 7.”
“Those were excitin’ days,” the man remarked with seeming indifference as he continued eating. “I suppose you’ve heard your pa tell many a time about the Indian raids they used to have every once in so often.”
This had all happened so very long ago that Virginia was sure that the conversation was following a safe channel, and so she replied:
“Yes, I have heard dad tell that when he was a boy they were in constant dread of a raid at the full of the moon. Every month at that time some one’s ranch house was attacked and of course grandfather never knew when it would be his turn to receive one of those most unwelcome visits.”
“Must have been powerful uncomfortable for the women folk those days, never knowing when they might be scalped, but I suppose your grandad had an underground room where he could hide his family if he knew the Indians were coming.”
This had been said in an off-hand manner, but instantly Virginia understood the meaning of the seemingly innocent conversation.
The leader of the posse believed that she had Tom hidden in the underground room which many of the old ranches had in the days of frequent Indian raids. They were often some distance from the house, the entrance being well concealed.
Knowing, as she did, that Tom was many miles away, Virginia calmly replied:
“Yes, we have an underground room. Would you like to see it?”
The man looked at her keenly and then he decided that he must be on the wrong trail, for, if this girl really did have the supposed cow-boy Tom hidden in an underground room, she would not so willingly and frankly invite him to visit the place.
“No, Miss Davis,” he replied, as he arose; “I’ve seen many of them and I suppose, architecturally speaking, they are all about the same. Guess we’d better be gettin’ on. Thanks for the grub. Good day.”
Five minutes later the two girls stood with their arms about each other, watching from a wide window as the men rode away and Virginia noticed that they were taking the trail toward the west. How she did hope that they would not turn north at the sandhills, and also that Tom had not been delayed.
She glanced at the clock, as she said:
“By now Tom ought to be safe in the Papago village.”
CHAPTER XXXI—WINONA, THE INDIAN MAIDEN.
Luckily for Tom’s comfort, the storm which had threatened when he left V. M. Ranch was turned by a changing wind toward the south; and, when the chill grey of daylight came, he found that he had ridden many miles to the north and that he was slowly crossing a vast, wild broken upland, which was gradually ascending toward a range of mountains that looked grim, lonely and forbidding.
In those barren walls of rock, Virginia had told him that he would find the almost hidden entrance to the Papago Indian village.
No creature was in sight at that early hour save a low sailing hawk, and, now and then, a lizard, frightened by the horse’s hoofs, darted across the trail. So near was it to the color of the sand that only by its quick flashing motion could it be discerned.
As Tom neared the seemingly impenetrable wall of rock, it was hard for him to believe that this was really a fortress surrounding a village of any kind. He was weary and hungry, but, try as he might, he could not find the entrance.