“Bedtime, girls,” Virginia said as she arose. “We may need unusual strength tomorrow.”
Megsy sought an early opportunity to be alone with Virginia the next morning and ask her if she thought it possible that Tom might be the missing Peyton, and that the father having received some inkling of the boy’s whereabouts, had come West to search for him.
Virginia looked up eagerly. “I hadn’t thought of it, Megsy,” she said, “but now that you suggest it, I do believe that it might be possible. For myself I do not care who Tom may be, all that I want to know is that he is safe and well somewhere, anywhere. Uncle Tex doesn’t tell us what he really thinks, but I know. I have often heard the cow-boys relate tales of rustlers who came upon a lonely herder, and if they wish to spirit away the sheep, they silence the only man who could witness against them.” Then she added, “Babs is calling, dear. We would better not tell her that we think Tom may be her lost brother, Peyton, for how cruel would be the disappointment were we wrong.”
The morning hours dragged slowly to the girls who were eagerly awaiting the hoped-for reappearance of little Red Feather. “I am sure Winona will send him back,” Virg said many, many times, but he did not come.
In the meantime Lucky had ridden to the Junction to get any mail that might have come on the early morning train, and about noon he returned with several letters for each of the girls. Virg, with an exclamation of eagerness, tore open an envelope addressed in her brother’s familiar handwriting.
“Dear little sister,” she read aloud.
“I know just how eagerly you are awaiting a message from me, but I have been unable to communicate with you before. When I reached the sheep ranch, Mr. Wilson asked me to ride with several Mexicans whom he trusted, up toward the Lost Canyon which is in the roughest and wildest part of the mountains to the north. It is seldom visited by herders as there is practically no vegetation there. However, Lopez Andero, one of the herders who has long been in Mr. Wilson’s employ, stated that after a spring of heavy rains there was, in an almost inaccessible valley in the heart of the mountains, enough grass to last a herd of 500 Merinos for several weeks and that there could not a better place for rustlers to hide the flock. It was twilight when we started, Lopez in the lead. After a long, wearisome ride we reached the entrance to the canyon an hour before daybreak.
“We wished to approach the valley under cover of the darkness so that we might come upon the rustlers without their knowledge, if indeed, they were there, but when at last we reached the summit overlooking the valley, to our great disappointment, in the grey light of the dawning day we saw only a lonely, bowl-shaped hollow, in which, as Lopez had said, grass was luxuriantly growing.
“We then rode back to the home ranch and found several other parties who had also returned with the same discouraging report. No trace of sheep or shepherds had been found.
“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson are greatly depressed, as indeed, are we all. The loss of the sheep, Mr. Wilson assures me, means little to him; he is so eager to find Tom. I am sorry, sister, that I have to write this news, knowing that it will sadden you and Margaret. I had hoped that today I would be able to return to V. M. accompanied by Tom and give you a real surprise, but now I do not expect to be able to do that, at least not soon. Send me a line to Red Riverton today if you can conveniently.