Without answering, Virginia led her friend toward a big desk in a sunny corner and sat down in the swinging chair that had been her father’s. “Sit near me,” she then said. “I have a task ahead of me.” Then, seeing that Margaret looked even more mystified than before, she added, by way of explanation: “Years ago, Buddie and I made up a code. We didn’t have any other children to play with and so we read many books of thrilling adventure. In one of them we found the inspiration for our code and we used to write letters to each other, pretending to tell secrets of a very serious nature. Honestly, Megsy, I have spent hours trying to decipher some message that Malcolm had sent me, to find, of course, that it was all make believe. We each had a key to the code, and evidently Malcolm still has his, but I am not real sure where mine is, but I think it is somewhere in this old desk. Of course I know that the message he has sent today is of a serious nature, and I simply must find the key to the code and decipher it as soon as possible.” While Virginia talked she opened one drawer in the old desk after another, removed papers yellowing with age and felt in the far corners, but the key to the code was not found. “What do you suppose can be in that message?” Margaret queried. “I believe it has something to do with his mining enterprise,” Virg said, then continued: “The facts, so far, are that this Irish prospector, Pat Mahoy, found what he believed to be paying ore on Second peak and said that if brother and I would grubstake him, we three would be partners. Malcolm decided to return with Mr. Mahoy and look at the property, and as you know, he has been gone three days. Now I conclude that my brother believes the mine to be a great find and wishes to tell me so in a way that no one else can read. Perhaps he wants me to do something that may be very important and that must be kept a secret, hence he has used the code of our childhood.” Then, rising, she left the desk as she said: “I have searched there thoroughly but not a sign of the key did I find.” “Isn’t there a secret drawer to the old desk?” Margaret asked, hopefully. If there was one thing more than another that Margaret liked, it was mystery, and the idea of a secret drawer or a panel that slid back, had always delighted her. Virginia laughingly shook her head. “Nary a secret drawer,” she declared. Just then the chimes of the old clock tolled the hour of 10. “Dear me; here it is mid-morning and we are no nearer deciphering this message than we were when it arrived,” Virginia declared, dolefully. “Hark! Somebody is coming,” Margaret exclaimed. “Who do you suppose it can be?” She opened the door as she spoke. The cow-boy Slim stood on the porch, sombrero in hand. “Miss Virginia,” he said in his shy manner, “did Malcolm leave word what he wanted me to do when I returned from the Junction?”