“There might be smoke coming from the chimney,” Margaret replied, “but it is so faint that at first I did not notice it.”
“When I tell you that the old crumbling adobe has been vacant for many years and that it is absolutely unsafe as a habitation for human beings of any kind, you will understand why I was so puzzled to see signs of an occupant. The last family to live there was a mountain lioness and her young, but I am sure that some human being must be there now, for a lion could not start a fire.”
Virginia, fearing that she might have frightened the eastern girl, said this merrily as she whirled her horse’s head away from the mountains.
“We will take the sand hill trail,” she announced. “It is a mile farther to the junction, but perhaps we would be unwise to ride alone too close to the old adobe.”
“You really think that the outlaw might be hiding there?” Margaret asked anxiously.
Virginia nodded. “It is a very lonely spot,” she said, “and so it is quite possible.”
“What is an outlaw?” the eastern girl inquired as they rode side by side toward the sand-hills.
“An outlaw is a man who has done something displeasing to his fellow citizens. He is driven from his home state and it would not be safe for him to return. Sometimes an outlaw is innocent of the charges against him and is just a victim of unfortunate circumstances, but one never knows, of course.”
Virginia, as she spoke, glanced back toward the old adobe which was hardly visible from that distance; then, to Margaret’s surprise, she drew rein, whirled about and once more gazed intently in that direction.
“Virg, what do you see now?” Margaret inquired, for she herself could see nothing.