“Yes, he rode toward the West,” Virginia frankly replied, and then she added, “May I serve you to more cakes?” “A cool one for her age,” the leader of the posse thought. “Thanks,” he said aloud, “I believe I will have a few more.” While he was eating the cakes he was trying to think of a question that he might ask the girl that would find her off her guard and perhaps obtain for him the information he desired. Virginia was busily refilling the huge coffee cups which were used only by the cow-boys, when the leader of the posse asked in a casual manner: “This ranch house is one of the oldest hereabouts, I understand. Have you any idea how long it’s been standing Miss Davis?” Virginia paused a moment before replying, but she could see no possible trap in the query, and so she said: “It was built by my grandfather. He came from the East in a prairie schooner when my dad was a boy of 7.” “Those were excitin’ days,” the man remarked with seeming indifference as he continued eating. “I suppose you’ve heard your pa tell many a time about the Indian raids they used to have every once in so often.” This had all happened so very long ago that Virginia was sure that the conversation was following a safe channel, and so she replied: “Yes, I have heard dad tell that when he was a boy they were in constant dread of a raid at the full of the moon. Every month at that time some one’s ranch house was attacked and of course grandfather never knew when it would be his turn to receive one of those most unwelcome visits.” “Must have been powerful uncomfortable for the women folk those days, never knowing when they might be scalped, but I suppose your grandad had an underground room where he could hide his family if he knew the Indians were coming.” This had been said in an off-hand manner, but instantly Virginia understood the meaning of the seemingly innocent conversation. The leader of the posse believed that she had Tom hidden in the underground room which many of the old ranches had in the days of frequent Indian raids. They were often some distance from the house, the entrance being well concealed. Knowing, as she did, that Tom was many miles away, Virginia calmly replied: “Yes, we have an underground room. Would you like to see it?” The man looked at her keenly and then he decided that he must be on the wrong trail, for, if this girl really did have the supposed cow-boy Tom hidden in an underground room, she would not so willingly and frankly invite him to visit the place. “No, Miss Davis,” he replied, as he arose; “I’ve seen many of them and I suppose, architecturally speaking, they are all about the same. Guess we’d better be gettin’ on. Thanks for the grub. Good day.”