Malcolm glanced up from the rustic table where he had been so busily figuring that the time had passed unnoticed.
“I had planned returning with you,” he said thoughtfully, “but I would rather remain here a few hours longer. Where is Trusty Tom? I will ask him to accompany you home.”
“He is with Pat Mahoy,” Virginia began, when Margaret, from the doorway said, “Here he is now.” Then she called to the approaching lad, “Tom, Malcolm wishes to speak to you.” The boy at the table looked up with a welcoming smile. “If you believe that it would be safe for the girls to return home, Tom, I wish you would accompany them,” he said.
“Indeed, I will gladly,” the other lad replied, “and if need be, I will protect them with my life.”
Half an hour later the three horses left the canyon trail and started across the gleaming desert.
“I’m glad to get away from the mountains,” Margaret declared, “for out here on the open desert, we can see whoever is coming and not be surprised by friend or foe.”
“Except in one place,” Virginia added, “and that is where the trail crosses the creek bottom. The banks are so high, a whole regiment could be hiding down there and we wouldn’t know it until we were quite upon them, but I’m not anticipating trouble, are you, Tom?”
“No,” the lad replied, “not for you girls,” he added. “Surely no one on the desert would wish to harm you.”
Virginia glanced up quickly and wondered if he were fearful that someone might be watching for him. How she did wish that she could ask him to tell her all about it, but she knew that on the desert no one asked a stranger his name or destination.
An hour later, as they were approaching the spot where the trail descended into the rocky creek bottom, Tom, who was in the lead, whirled in his saddle and lifted a warning hand.