Virginia was proudly surveying the row of pies, which, with the help of Mrs. Mahoy, she had just made, when she heard the front door burst open and slam shut. Then, almost before she could turn around, a terrorized girl rushed into the kitchen, and seizing Virginia, clung to her wildly as she said, “Oh, Virg, I was almost captured by Indians. They came around the sand hills. The minute I saw them I galloped for home, but two of them pursued me. Do you suppose they are coming to raid the ranch as you said they used to do when your father was a boy?” “No, no, Megsy, of course not,” Virginia replied. “Tell me what did your Indian pursuers look like.” “One of them was a big fierce warrior, and—” Just then there was a rap at the front door. “Oh! Oh! There they are now! Virg, you aren’t going to let them in?” “Megsy, my dear, the only Indians living near here are the friendly Papagoes. Please do not hold me so tight.” The western girl had to fairly drag herself away from Margaret. When the door was opened there on the porch stood the Indian maiden, Winona, and by her side was little Red Feather. Virginia was delighted and embraced her Indian friend just as she would have welcomed a white girl whom she loved and had not seen for a long time. “Margaret,” she called, “come and meet my dear friend Winona, of whom I have so often spoken.” Margaret approached, feeling rather overcome by the sudden change of emotions. She held out her hand to the Indian girl and said sincerely that she was indeed glad to meet Virginia’s friend. Then she smiled at the little fellow whom she had called a “fierce warrior.” About his straight black hair there was a band of green, in which, perched at a jaunty angle, was a bright red feather. The Indian boy’s white teeth gleamed as he said admiringly: “Fast pony! Go zip!” Luckily neither of the Papago visitors had suspected that Margaret had been frightened by their sudden appearance at the sand hills. “Can’t you stay awhile, Winona?” Virginia asked. “Not this time. Some other, perhaps. My father, Chief Grey Hawk, awaits me. We have buying to do in town, but I wanted to tell you the nice young man, your friend, he came and went again soon to the north. Red Feather showed him the way. He reached there safely.” Virginia’s eyes glowed, and again taking the Indian girl’s hand, she exclaimed, “Oh, Winona, I am so glad that you stopped to tell me. We were eager to know if Tom really found your village. It is so hidden that the entrance is hard to find.” When the farewells had been said and the two visitors had ridden away, Margaret went to the old writing desk, declaring that she was going to pen Babs a letter that would make the boarding school life seem dull and monotonous. Scarcely was the epistle finished and sealed, when Lucky called to say that he was riding to the Junction and would take the mail. “Be sure to bring us back some letters,” Virginia called merrily as the cow-boy, waving his sombrero, rode away.