Uncle Tex, when told all that had happened, shook his head dismally. “Ah reckon as how Malcolm is right,” he drawled, “Rustlers ’twas as took the herd, like’s not, and if so, they’ve hushed up the drivers someway.” Then noting the white face of the girl he so loved, he hastened to add, self-reproachingly, “Thar! Thar! Miss Virginia dearie, ah ought not to skeer yo’ all that-a-way. Like’s not yo’ friend Tom is safe somewhar. Ah feels in ma bones as we’ll heah news somehow today.”
“So do I,” Margaret declared, “and honestly, Virg, I believe that it will be good news.”
Virginia smiled wanly, and then, springing up she exclaimed, “Let’s ride over to The Junction, Megsy, and see if there is any mail for us. That will help to pass the time away.”
They were soon in the saddle, but, before they had left the dooryard, Margaret pointed up toward the mesa trail. “Someone is coming at top-speed,” she called over her shoulder. They drew rein and watched the rapidly approaching cloud of sand in the midst of which they soon saw a small horse and a boy rider.
“It’s Wells,” Virginia cried excitedly, urging forward to meet the newcomer. “I do believe that he has a telegram for us.”
“He certainly has,” Megsy agreed, as she rode alongside. “See! He is waving a yellow envelope. I am sure it is good news or Malcolm would not have wired it.”
But a surprise awaited the girls. It was a telegram, to be sure, that the boy gave to Virginia, but it was not about Tom nor from Malcolm.
“Margaret Selover!” Virginia exclaimed, her eyes wide with surprise when she had read the message. “Who do you suppose this telegram is from?”
“Babs?” was the eager inquiry.
“Yes, Babs. The school has been closed because of an epidemic and her father is bringing her West at once. In fact, she will arrive at The Junction this afternoon at 2.”