As he neared the group of low, white-washed buildings, Tom felt in his heart a strange loneliness and a sense of homesickness for the V. M. Ranch. After years of wandering, the few days he had spent there had meant so much to him, but it had been Virginia’s wish that he seek refuge on this sheep ranch, and so he rode on, wondering what manner of welcome he would receive. Mr. Wilson and his 18-year-old son, Harry, were mounted and apparently about to ride away from the big white-washed ranch house when they perceived the newcomer and drew rein to await him. They wondered who the visitor might be, as few riders passed that way, the sheep ranch being isolated and difficult of access. When the lad was within hailing distance, Mr. Wilson, in his bluff, hearty manner, called: “Welcome, stranger!” Tom responded to the greeting and said: “Mr. Wilson, I am from the V. M. Ranch. An old cattleman, whom they call ‘Uncle Tex,’ brought word that you were in need of help and I have come to apply for a position.” “Good! We do indeed need help,” was the hearty response. “Have you any knowledge of sheep?” “None whatever,” was the frank reply, “and before I accept a position with you, I would like to tell you just who I am.” “That is not at all necessary,” Mr. Wilson replied, heartily. “Your honest face and manner are all the recommendations that you need. Your past, my boy, is past. Your present will be what you make it now.” Then he added, “This is my son, Harry. What shall we call you?” “Tom,” was the simple reply. “Tom,” Mr. Wilson repeated, “you have come at a very opportune time. Harry and I were just setting out for the Red Canyon camp. Our herder there, Juan, reports that many sheep are being killed in his flock, but that alone he cannot watch them at all hours. Of course he must have sleep, and although I am really needed on the home ranch, I am so short of help that I was about to accompany Harry. Will you go in my place?” “Gladly, sir,” Tom replied. “Then first come within and have refreshments and meet the Little Mother who makes home for us.” Mrs. Wilson welcomed the lad with the same kindliness that her husband extended to him and led him at once to the big, comfortable kitchen where he was soon given a bountiful dinner, which he greatly appreciated. An hour later, with Harry and on a fresh mount, Tom started again toward the north. The boys liked each other at once. Tom was soon asking many questions about sheep ranching, which the other lad seemed glad to answer. Then, for a time, they rode on silently. Tom was thinking how pleased Virginia would be if she could know of the kindly welcome he had received. How he wished that he could write to her. “Can one send a letter from here to the V. M. Ranch?” he inquired. “Yes,” Harry replied; “about once a month we send our mail to Red River Junction, which is thirty miles away. Little Francisco will go to town in about a week.” CHAPTER XXXII A FIERCE WARRIOR