As he thought of these things, he rebuked himself for having doubted the loyalty of his Mexican cowboy in whom he had so much faith that he had placed him in charge of the entire ranch, and yet, try as he might to banish it, he could not but agree with Betsy that there was something very mysterious about Trujillo.
The long adobe was lighted and the Mexicans squatting on the floor were intent on a game which they played every evening.
Peyton quietly passed the open door and did not attract their attention. He went at once to the overseer’s adobe dwelling. It was dark. The door was standing open and in the faint light of the rising moon, Peyton could see that the single room was unoccupied.
“Trujillo,” he said softly, but there was no response.
Peyton, troubled indeed, turned back toward the ranch house. He did not inquire of the peons the whereabouts of Trujillo, for the overseer never associated with his helpers although he treated them kindly.
What should he do? What could he do? The lad was thinking as he again ascended the steps and entered the kitchen door. It was then that he heard a crash followed by a shrill cry in the front room.
Instantly the girls were on their feet and they were all staring at the closed door when it burst open and Betsy Clossen rushed in. Her face was very pale and she was so excited that at first she could not speak.
“Betsy, is it really you?” Barbara exclaimed joyfully as she caught her friend in her arms.
“I’m not sure certain it is, myself,” Betsy replied as she sank down in a rocker. “I’ve had the most exciting experience.”
The others gathered about her. “Do tell us just what happened,” Virginia said.