“You will be surprised, Megsy, how quickly the time will pass,” Virginia declared and then they talked of Peyton, wondering what had become of him. “If he is a happy-go-lucky, tender-hearted, easily led sort of a boy,” Virg said, “I am afraid that, being angered by his father, he may do many things that he might regret, perhaps when it is too late.” “It is the not really knowing that makes it so hard for Babs,” Margaret said. “If she knew even the worst, she could face it more bravely.” There was a sudden exclamation from the western girl who had chanced to glance out of the wide window and over the sandy stretch of desert that was glistening in the early sunshine. “A horse and rider are coming at top speed,” she said. “How I do hope that Malcolm is returning.” The girls went out on the veranda and stood arm in arm awaiting the coming of, they knew not whom. As the rider neared, Virginia, looking through her glasses exclaimed: “Oh, it is only Pasqual, a small Mexican boy whose father is one of the Slater Range riders. Perhaps he is on his way to the Junction. If so, he will turn at Dry Creek and ride up the mesa trail.” They watched a moment in silence and then Virginia remarked: “He didn’t turn and so he must be coming here. How I hope that he has a message from Malcolm. Brother has been away for three days now and I haven’t heard a word. I cannot help feeling troubled if I do not hear at least that often. So many dangers lurk on a desert, and now, added to them, is that outlaw who is supposed to be hiding in our mountains.” The girls went out on the veranda as the small boy approached. He removed his gayly adorned peaked hat and took from it a letter, which he handed to Virginia. That girl had a box of Christmas candy which she had caught up from the table as she passed and this she gave the dark eyed little boy whose white teeth gleamed as he smiled his pleasure. Then thanking Virginia in his own musical language, his pony galloped away. Virginia glanced at the folded paper. “Why, this isn’t Malcolm’s handwriting after all,” she exclaimed in dismay. “Oh Megsy, I do hope that nothing has happened to my darling brother.” They went indoors, but Virginia’s anxiety was quickly changed to mirth, and her merry laughter rang out. “Virg, what is it that amuses you?” Megsy asked, truly puzzled. “I thought a moment ago that you were troubled.”