“Isn’t it time to stop for lunch?” she heard Margaret asking, and, so intently had she been thinking, that her friend’s voice sounded far off. “Yes, I believe it is high sun,” she replied as she glanced at the heavens. “Oh, here is an adorable spot by this mountain brook,” Babs said as they alighted, but, though Virginia tried to listen to the chatter of her friends, her thoughts kept wandering away to Tom. Suddenly, glancing up, she found Winona’s calm gaze upon her and a peace crept into her heart. The Indian girl had said, “Tom will be found.”—But when and where? CHAPTER XLV ON A SHEEP RANCH 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.