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.”