Virg at that moment appeared, and holding up the magnifying glass, she exclaimed, “Now perhaps we will find out the secret hidden in that blurred writing.”
Even Malcolm believed that Betsy might have found a clew and they all bent over the fragment of newspaper which Virginia had spread on a table near the window. After several moments of intent scrutiny, he told the girls what he believed was the meaning of the very fine and frequently blurred hand writing.
Betsy was elated.
“Whizzle,” she exclaimed excitedly, “it is a clew after all. A whale of a clew!”
“Brother, read it again and then tell us what you make of it,” Virginia urged.
So once more Malcolm placed the magnifying glass over the torn fragment of the newspaper and read the fine writing.
“Tenderfoot, O. K. Wheels N. G. in desert. Ought to have known better. Stuck for keeps, seems like. No ranches in sight. Don’t know what to do with—” The paper was torn there.
“Malcolm,” Virginia began anxiously, “do you suppose that the missing word might have been yearlings? Has some tenderfoot attempted to make away with our entire herd?”
The lad looked serious but after a thoughtful moment he shook his head. “I can’t believe it is possible. What paper is this, anyway?”
“A page from the Chicago Tribune,” Betsy told him. Then, eager to help solve the mystery, she hurried on to say: “Chicago is the place where your cattle were to be sold, isn’t it?”