NIGHT PROWLERS
Virginia, sincerely hoping that the eastern girl would not awaken,
tiptoed out of the log cabin and very quietly closed the door. She
was carrying the unlighted lantern and some matches. Not far from
the cabin was a small cave. In this Virginia went and struck a light
when she was sure that it would not be seen by anyone outside. Then
opening the brown paper, she read again and more carefully what her
brother, Malcolm, had written.
The property which he wished observed lay directly below the cave
far down in the canyon, but it was not this part of the message
which had stirred Virginia to action. It was that which followed.
“Pat Mahoy states that about a week ago while he was prospecting
about here, a desert-rat sort of a man took him by surprise. He has
feared ever since that the man may have suspected that the property
was valuable and that he might return, so don’t sleep until we get
back. Keep alert and on the watch.”
Little did Malcolm dream when he wrote that hastily scrawled message
that it would be a mere girl and his most dearly loved sister who
would assume the truly dangerous position of night watch.
Leaving the lantern in the cave, Virginia went out into the darkness
and stood leaning against a boulder where she could not be seen but
where she could observe the downward slope of the canyon.
Every half hour she went to the cabin and listened at the open
window that she might be assured that Margaret was still sleeping
undisturbed.
It was on her return from one of these visits to the cabin that she
uttered an exclamation of dismay, for, far down in the canyon, she
saw lights moving about.
What could it mean? At first she thought there were but two, but
then she counted three. Tensely she watched. For a brief while the
lights were close together as though whoever carried them were
conferring on some plan of action. Then one of the lights seemed to
settle permanently in one spot and two of them began to ascend the
trail that led toward the log cabin. Virginia leaped into the cave
and put out the light in her lantern. Then she sprang back to her
post of observation. It would be some time before whoever was coming
could reach the top of the trail. What ought she to do? What could
she do?
Perhaps she ought to warn Margaret at once and yet the eastern girl
would be so terrorized that it would but add to the problem
confronting Virginia. Moreover, if it should be Malcolm returning,
she would have frightened Margaret without reason, and so she
determined to wait until she herself might be assured of the
identity of the bearers of the light who seemed to be slowly
ascending the trail.
At last they were near enough for Virginia, who was listening
intently to hear their voices, and to her dismay, she realized that
she had never heard them before. Then as the light of the lanterns
was thrown upon them, although she could not see their faces, she
knew from the build of each that to her they were strangers. One was
of slight, graceful build and the other heavy set. They seemed to be
having a heated discussion and Virginia clearly heard the younger
man say: “If it’s crooked work you are up to, I’ll not go a step
further.”
“You’ll do as I say,” was the surly reply.
Terrorized, when again the lanterns began to ascend the trail,
Virginia sped to the cabin and awakened Margaret.
“What is it, Virginia?” Margaret asked, half awake, as she rose. “Is
it a bear or the outlaw?”
“Hush! Hush!” Virginia whispered. “Be quiet as you can and follow
me. There are two strange men coming up the trail. They do not mean
to harm us, of course, for they do not know of our existence, but
they probably plan visiting this hut, and we don’t want them to find
us here. Climb through the window and then we will crouch down in
the dark until we can slip away.”
Although Margaret was terrorized, the courage of her Puritan
ancestors must have asserted itself, for she did just as Virginia
bade her. Silently the girls crept through the small open window and
hurried to a place of hiding in a clump of dwarf pines, and none too
soon, for a moment later lights appeared in the cabin.
They were near enough to hear an exclamation of surprise, followed
by a surly voice. “Huh! Folks been here seems like, and mighty
recent. Two hats yonder belonin’ to gals, I take it. Tom, get a move
on ye and find who ’twas just left here. Like as not whoever ’tis
has the information we’re wishin’ to obtain.”
Evidently the one addressed as Tom didn’t move. “Stubborn again?”
the voice inquired. “Then it’s myself as will hunt for whoever
escaped.”
Hearing this, the frightened girls crouched lower, hoping that they
would escape observation, but unfortunately, the grey of the dawn
had come and Margaret’s red belt and neck handkerchief gleamed among
the green pines and attracted the roving eye of the searcher.
“Wall,” he remarked, “sort of playin’ hide and seek with me, was ye?
Come out now, and if ye’ll tell all ye know about what’s goin’ on
around here you won’t be hurt, not one scratch.”
Virginia, holding Margaret’s hand in a firm clasp, arose, for she
knew there was no other alternative. The heavy-set man was a type of
which she had heard but had never before seen. She knew that he
could be merciless and so with a pretence of bravery which with
difficulty she assumed, Virginia led Margaret toward the cabin.
She glanced at the slight young man who stood watching them and she
was sure that she saw in his bronzed face an expression of pity.
Then in another moment, something very unexpected had happened.
The surly man, intent upon obtaining whatever information he could
from the two girls, had forgotten for the moment that the lad, whom
he had addressed as Tom, was not in sympathy with his plans. Had he
chanced to glance at the youth he would have seen an expression in
his eyes that would have warned him that he would better not bully
the girls too much. But, for the moment the older man had entirely
forgotten his companion.
When they neared the cabin, he commanded, “Turn around here, gals!
Tell me all ye know about this here mining property and tell it
quick.”
Virginia was defiantly silent, but Margaret, whose courage was gone,
began to sob, and it was at that moment that the lad called Tom
confronted the bully and in each hand he held a gun.
“Coward!” he said, “I’ll not stand by and see you frighten two mere
girls. Down the trail with you and don’t so much as look back or
I’ll fire.”
The man obeyed sullenly, and Tom stood leaning against the boulder
to be sure that his orders were carried out. Then, turning to the
girls, he said, “Young ladies, do you wish me to remain here until
you are better protected or do you prefer to be alone?”
“Oh, please, please stay!” Virginia implored, for, brave as she had
been, she was after all only a girl, and she had been thoroughly
frightened. “My brother Malcolm, and Pat Mahoy may return at any
moment now and so I am sure that you will not be long delayed.”
“It doesn’t matter how long I am delayed,” the youth said, and in
his voice there was a tone of hopelessness which Virginia noted with
sudden sympathy. “I’ll stand here and watch the trail for a time,”
he added.
“And I will prepare breakfast,” the western girl said brightly;
“then you come when it is ready.”
Half an hour later Virginia called and the lad left his post feeling
sure that they were not to be molested. When he had washed at the
spring he entered the hut and sat with the girls at the rustic
table. Virginia liked the lad and was indeed puzzled to know why he
had been in such bad company.
“You girls were brave to come up here alone,” Tom said, “Weren’t you
afraid?”
“Indeed I was,” Margaret confided, “because, you see, we had heard
that an outlaw is hiding somewhere on Second Peak. Do you suppose
that it is true?”
“Yes,” the lad replied, “it is true. I am the outlaw.”