It was mid-afternoon when the long ever upward winding trail had been climbed, and, at last the girls and their guides drew rein on the very summit, where a few weeks before, little Red Feather had paused to point to the valley below, that Outlaw Tom might know which way to ride to reach the Wilson Ranch.
In the sunlight the distant group of white buildings could be plainly seen, and Virginia, noting that their Papago friends were preparing to return, held out her hand to Winona as she said, “Thank you. We will let you know as soon as we can. Good-bye.”
Half an hour later the big, rambling white ranch house had been reached and the motherly Mrs. Wilson having observed from her sitting room window the approach of the strangers was out on the verandah to greet them.
The girls leaped to the ground and Virginia going forward extended her hand as she said, “Mrs. Wilson, I am Virginia Davis and these are my friends from the East, Margaret Selover and Barbara Blair Wente. My brother Malcolm is here, is he not?”
“Oh, Miss Virginia, you haven’t heard from Tom, have you? We thought maybe, if he managed to escape, he would try to reach the V. M. Ranch, being as that was where he’d come from?”
“No, Mrs. Wilson. Tom did not come to the V. M., but I am very eager to speak with my brother. Is he here now?”
Virginia awaited the answer almost breathlessly, knowing that Malcolm might be away with one of the searching parties.
“Well now, I’m not real sure as to where he is right this minute,” the good woman replied, “but here comes Lopez on his pinto. Like as not he can tell us. Anyhow he can take your horses down to the corral.”
Mrs. Wilson beckoned to the young Mexican herder, and then, in reply to her inquiry, he told her that he believed Senor Davis was still at the bunkhouse.
He would stop there and see.
“Do come right in,” the motherly woman said, “and sit a spell in the comfortable rockers. You must be worn out, being so many hours in the saddle.”
The eastern girls were indeed glad to avail themselves of the invitation, but Virginia could not rest. Oh, how she did wish Malcolm was there, for, if the message did tell where Tom was being held in captivity, every moment might be of the greatest importance.
The doors opened and two young men entered. “Oh, brother! brother!” Virginia exclaimed, rushing toward the outstretched arms of Malcolm. “Please don’t rebuke us for coming, for we have news that we thought, or at least I thought, might be of great importance.” Then she inquired anxiously, “You have not heard from Tom?”
“No,” he replied, and his tone implied that they had all but lost hope of hearing. Then he led his sister to the rocker, saying tenderly, “You are trembling like a leaf, Virginia. You are over tired and excited, but I understand.”
Then he returned to welcome Margaret, who in turn introduced Babs.
“It’s hard to remember formalities just now,” he said. “You girls have become acquainted with Mrs. Wilson. Now permit me to introduce her older son, Harry.” Then turning to Virginia he inquired: “Did you say, sister, that you have a message?” Virginia hurriedly told the story of the captured carrier pigeon and she knew by the eyes of her listeners that they were all keenly interested. “May I see that bit of brown paper?” Harry asked as he held out his hand. “I will be able to read it.” Virginia gave him the small paper and then they all waited, scarcely breathing in their eagerness. The ticking of the big clock on the wall was the only sound that broke the stillness. Suddenly Harry leaped to his feet, his face tense, “Malcolm,” he cried, “there isn’t a minute to lose! Quick! Call the herders, we’ll need all the help we can get.” Then, not realizing that he had not told the message to the girls, he left the house, and raced toward the bunkhouse, shouting to Lopez.
In half an hour many things had been hurriedly done. Malcolm, who had raced after Harry, returned as he had promised Virginia that he would to tell the girls the meaning of the message. It was. “The sheep are south of Agua Prieta. Get them at once. Drive to Rebano Rancho. Do away with herders.”
“Brother! Brother!” Virginia sobbed. “Are we too late? Have they done away with the herders? Oh, tell me, what do you think?”
“Harry and I believe that whoever is to get the sheep is still waiting for the carrier pigeon and if so Tom may as yet be unharmed. Our hope is, since the message has not been delivered, that we may reach Agua Prieta before the rustlers receive an order from some other source. If we do, we may be able to regain the sheep and save our friend Tom.” Then he added, “I know you girls are terribly tired but I think that you would better return with us as our way to Agua Prieta leads so close to V. M. What do you think, Virginia?”
But Mrs. Wilson would not hear of it. “Do let the poor dears rest,” she said. “They look as pale as lilies and wilted ones at that. I’m expecting my younger son, Benjy, to return home tomorrow and on the day after he will gladly escort the girls to V. M.”
Bab’s heart gave a leap of joy when she heard that she was to see her friend Benjamin Wilson so soon again, and that evening, when the young men had ridden to the south, after having partaken of a bounteous repast, the girls and Mrs. Wilson sat in the big living-room where a log from the mountains was burning cheerily on the hearth.
Mrs. Wilson had been delighted to find that Babs knew her younger son and she wanted to know all about the Drexel Military Academy, and so, to pass the time and to permit Virginia to follow her own thoughts uninterrupted, Babs recounted to a delighted listener the story of her acquaintance, beginning with the surprise Valentine party, where she had first met Benjy, telling of the afternoon in town where she and the lad had seats next to each other at the theater, and ending with the April Fool letter and the happy culmination of the romance of their two instructors, Miss Piquilin and Professor Pixley.
The good woman beamed at the petite girl whom she thought almost too pretty and fragile “like a bit of porcelain that ought to be kept in a glass case,” but aloud she said, “I’m real glad you know my boy. Like ’tis you’re about his age.”
“I’m fifteen,” Barbara replied, “and Benjy told me that he would be sixteen this month I believe.” Mrs. Wilson nodded, “Yes, my boy is sixteen now.” Then she added with pride glowing in her kindly eyes, “I don’t know where he took it from, but he sure has a great head for the learning. His teacher here in the Red Riverton school said that Benjy didn’t no more than open his book before he knew his lesson, seemed like. His daddy and I had always had a hankering to have one son as would have a college education, and so, ever since our first boy came, we put away some money every month in the old tea pot with the nose broken off and we called it ‘Hal’s schoolin’ fund,’ but Harry didn’t want a higher education and so he said, ‘Send Benjy, mother. We’ll make a scholar of him, but I’ll stick to the sheep raisin’.’ That’s how it came that Benjy was sent East to school, but come now, it’s late and I know you’re all tired out. Being as there are three of you, how do you wish to divide?”
“We don’t divide,” Margaret laughingly replied. “We sleep all together,” but there was one of the three who did not close her eyes until morning, and even then she did not sleep for over and over again her thought kept repeating, “If only I could help save Tom.”