The next morning the two girls were up with the sun. “I feel as though something unusual is going to happen today,” Virginia said as she poured the coffee and smiled over at Margaret.
“So do I,” that maiden replied as she turned the toast when it was just the right crispy brown. “I keep thinking and thinking of poor Babs. Here it is only the first of January and she can’t come to visit us until the middle of June.”
“You will be surprised, Megsy, how quickly the time will pass,” Virginia declared and then they talked of Peyton, wondering what had become of him.
“If he is a happy-go-lucky, tender-hearted, easily led sort of a boy,” Virg said, “I am afraid that, being angered by his father, he may do many things that he might regret, perhaps when it is too late.”
“It is the not really knowing that makes it so hard for Babs,” Margaret said. “If she knew even the worst, she could face it more bravely.”
There was a sudden exclamation from the western girl who had chanced to glance out of the wide window and over the sandy stretch of desert that was glistening in the early sunshine.
“A horse and rider are coming at top speed,” she said. “How I do hope that Malcolm is returning.”
The girls went out on the veranda and stood arm in arm awaiting the coming of, they knew not whom. As the rider neared, Virginia, looking through her glasses exclaimed: “Oh, it is only Pasqual, a small Mexican boy whose father is one of the Slater Range riders. Perhaps he is on his way to the Junction. If so, he will turn at Dry Creek and ride up the mesa trail.”
They watched a moment in silence and then Virginia remarked: “He didn’t turn and so he must be coming here. How I hope that he has a message from Malcolm. Brother has been away for three days now and I haven’t heard a word. I cannot help feeling troubled if I do not hear at least that often. So many dangers lurk on a desert, and now, added to them, is that outlaw who is supposed to be hiding in our mountains.”
The girls went out on the veranda as the small boy approached. He removed his gayly adorned peaked hat and took from it a letter, which he handed to Virginia. That girl had a box of Christmas candy which she had caught up from the table as she passed and this she gave the dark eyed little boy whose white teeth gleamed as he smiled his pleasure.
Then thanking Virginia in his own musical language, his pony galloped away. Virginia glanced at the folded paper. “Why, this isn’t Malcolm’s handwriting after all,” she exclaimed in dismay. “Oh Megsy, I do hope that nothing has happened to my darling brother.”
They went indoors, but Virginia’s anxiety was quickly changed to mirth, and her merry laughter rang out.
“Virg, what is it that amuses you?” Megsy asked, truly puzzled. “I thought a moment ago that you were troubled.”
Without answering, Virginia led her friend toward a big desk in a sunny corner and sat down in the swinging chair that had been her father’s. “Sit near me,” she then said. “I have a task ahead of me.” Then, seeing that Margaret looked even more mystified than before, she added, by way of explanation: “Years ago, Buddie and I made up a code. We didn’t have any other children to play with and so we read many books of thrilling adventure. In one of them we found the inspiration for our code and we used to write letters to each other, pretending to tell secrets of a very serious nature. Honestly, Megsy, I have spent hours trying to decipher some message that Malcolm had sent me, to find, of course, that it was all make believe. We each had a key to the code, and evidently Malcolm still has his, but I am not real sure where mine is, but I think it is somewhere in this old desk. Of course I know that the message he has sent today is of a serious nature, and I simply must find the key to the code and decipher it as soon as possible.”
While Virginia talked she opened one drawer in the old desk after another, removed papers yellowing with age and felt in the far corners, but the key to the code was not found.
“What do you suppose can be in that message?” Margaret queried.
“I believe it has something to do with his mining enterprise,” Virg said, then continued: “The facts, so far, are that this Irish prospector, Pat Mahoy, found what he believed to be paying ore on Second peak and said that if brother and I would grubstake him, we three would be partners. Malcolm decided to return with Mr. Mahoy and look at the property, and as you know, he has been gone three days. Now I conclude that my brother believes the mine to be a great find and wishes to tell me so in a way that no one else can read. Perhaps he wants me to do something that may be very important and that must be kept a secret, hence he has used the code of our childhood.” Then, rising, she left the desk as she said: “I have searched there thoroughly but not a sign of the key did I find.”
“Isn’t there a secret drawer to the old desk?” Margaret asked, hopefully. If there was one thing more than another that Margaret liked, it was mystery, and the idea of a secret drawer or a panel that slid back, had always delighted her. Virginia laughingly shook her head. “Nary a secret drawer,” she declared.
Just then the chimes of the old clock tolled the hour of 10.
“Dear me; here it is mid-morning and we are no nearer deciphering this message than we were when it arrived,” Virginia declared, dolefully.
“Hark! Somebody is coming,” Margaret exclaimed. “Who do you suppose it can be?”
She opened the door as she spoke. The cow-boy Slim stood on the porch, sombrero in hand. “Miss Virginia,” he said in his shy manner, “did Malcolm leave word what he wanted me to do when I returned from the Junction?”
“No he didn’t, Slim,” Virginia said. “I think you would better use your own judgment. You know my brother always wishes you to do that when he is not at home. Just now he is away, and I do not know when he will return. Is everything all right here at the ranch?”
“Yes, Miss Virginia, and if it’s what you think Malcolm would be wishin’ me to do I’ll join Rusty up the north way, and help him drive in the yearlings. Dick Dartly told me as there’d be a stampede up that way and that Rusty is havin’ a hard time roundin’ up the scattered yearlings. He’d be glad of my help if you think as it would be right for me to go.”
“I’m sure it’s all right, Slim. Goodbye and good luck.” The two girls waved to the departing cow-boy and then turned back into the big, cheerful living-room as the clock chimed the quarter hour.
“Oh, dear, how time flies!” Virginia declared. Then she pressed both hands upon her forehead saying that she was going to think and think until she could recall where she had put the key to the code.
“And while you are thinking, I will make my bed.” Margaret said as she skipped to the adjoining room, into which the sun was flooding. She began to hum a little tune, but, in the middle of it she stopped suddenly, for she had heard a squeal of delight.
“What is it?” she asked peering out of the door.
“Inspiration!” Virginia laughingly responded. “Come along with me. I do believe I recall where I put the key to the code when I supposed Buddie and I were through with it forever. Are you a climber?”
“I don’t know. What will I have to climb?” asked the mystified Margaret. “I did climb a tree once and a ladder also. Which do you wish me to ascend now?”
Virginia was leading the way to the kitchen which was deserted at that hour. There she opened a door into a long, dark storeroom at one end of which was a straight up and down ladder made by the nailing of boards across uncovered uprights. Margaret looked up and saw a trap door in the ceiling. “Does that lead to your attic?” she inquired. Virginia was half way up the ladder, and, looking over her shoulder, she replied merrily. “Follow me and you shall see.”