Slowly and thoughtfully, Virginia walked back over the well worn trail to the ranch house. She was planning the letter which later was written and mailed.
CHAPTER IV—PLOTTING AND PLANNING.
That evening before the wide fireplace on which a mesquite root was cheerfully burning, three people sat plotting and planning.
Virginia had at last decided to take Uncle Tex into their confidence. He it was who had first taught five-year-old Malcolm to ride and shoot and Virginia he loved as dearly as he could have loved an own daughter if he had had one.
“It’s powerful unpleasant business, ’pears like to me,” the old man said as he shook his shaggy grey head, “but I reckon if you uns cal-late its yer dooty, we all will have to put it through, but yer ol’ Uncle Tex is common poor at the play actin’.”
He looked so truly distressed that Virginia drew her chair closer and placed her slim, strong hand on his arm. “Don’t be troubled about it yet, Uncle Tex, we’ll make it as easy for you as we can.” Then, looking to her brother, she added with thoughtful seriousness. “I wonder if we ought to permit our ward to journey across the continent alone. I am confident that she has always been protected by her father’s loving care, just as I have been, although I feel sure that I could make the journey alone and in safety, and yet, since Margaret is our ward, we are responsible, as I am sure that our father would wish us to be, for her well being.”
“You are right, Virg,” the lad replied. “I wish we knew some one who might be coming west at the same time, who would consent to keep an eye on our young tornado.”
There was a twinkle in the eyes of the lad, and his sister, noticing it, exclaimed: “Malcolm Davis, I actually believe that you like our ward all the better because she is high spirited.”
“Well,” the lad confessed, “I do like spirit, I’ll agree. I’d like to see the girl.”
“Ah reckon we-all will see plenty of her before we’re finished with her.” Uncle Tex drawled in so doleful a tone that Malcolm laughed heartily.