She drew rein when she reached the highest point and sat on her red-brown pony watching the glory of the setting sun. At last when the golden light had left all but the highest mountain peaks, and deep shadows were purpling the canons, she beheld silhouetted against the after glow, a horseman approaching at a gallop. Believing it to be her brother, she rode down the trail to meet him. Malcolm, she realized, was hilariously excited about something, for every now and then he snatched off his sombrero and waved it to the waiting girl. “News! Great news!” he shouted as he drew near. “What is it?” Virginia asked as she wheeled her pony about and side by side they rode toward home through the deepening dusk. “I’ll give you three guesses.” This had been their way of telling news items to each other from their earliest childhood. “Oh brother, don’t make me guess it this time. I just know that it is something of unusual interest,” the girl implored. “It is.” This in Malcolm’s most tantalizing manner. “Well, I’ll give you a hint. It’s something about the coming of our young tornado.” “Oh.” Virginia’s expression brightened. “Have you heard of someone who will escort her from the East?” “Righto, Sis, you’re doing splendidly, but who?” They were descending the narrow trail from the mesa, and, since Virginia was in the lead, she could not see the elated expression on the face of her brother. “Um-m, let me see,” she replied thoughtfully. “May I have five minutes to think?” “I’ll give you until the Dry Creek is crossed,” was the merry reply. They rode on in silence while Virginia’s thoughts were busy trying to solve the mystery. Of course Malcolm must have heard of this possible escort during his day at the Slater Ranch while rounding up the steers that were to be sent to Chicago. “Oh, I have it!” she whirled about in her saddle to exclaim exultingly. “Some one, of course, is to accompany the car-load of steers to the big city and that some-one will meet Margaret there and escort her back to Douglas.” “Congratulations sister! Now, since you are so clever at guessing tonight, suppose you tell me _who_ is to go with the cattle.” “Malcolm Davis, I do believe that you are,” the girl instantly declared. “There’s a ring in your voice which convinces me that you are at last to have the opportunity for which you have so longed. Are you now old enough to be trusted on so important a mission?” “Mr. Slater thinks so. He asked me to go,” the lad replied jubiliantly, as he swung from his saddle, “but wait until after supper and then I will tell you my plan.” CHAPTER VI FAREWELL TO BOARDING SCHOOL A week passed and Margaret Selover had received a letter, supposedly from the elderly Mr. Davis, bidding her start on her westward journey Friday, the 25th. Barbara Blair Wente, fluffy, golden and petite, sat curled up on the window seat of the room they had shared together for the past year looking the picture of misery.