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?”