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.