It was four in the afternoon and the girls, having had a long siesta
after their lunch, had donned their muslin dresses (for the station
master had arrived soon after noon with their trunks), and, taking
Barbara’s cherished tea set, without which she never traveled, they
had hied them to the summer house. Virg gathered a few of the
scarlet blossoms that grew wild after the rains. Nearly all of them
dried up but one clump had remained to welcome the girls. These she
placed on the yucca table. Margaret was carrying a plate of small
cakes. Betsy had a tray on which were five cups and saucers and tiny
spoons. Babs, at the end of the line, held the fragile pot of
delicate blue which was brimming with weak but hot tea.
Virg stood back to admire the table when it was set. Then laughingly
she exclaimed: “I just can’t get over it. I never was more surprised
in all my life. When I opened the kitchen door and saw that dear old
Sing Long fussing around the stove, as though he weren’t expecting
us, I just had to rush up and hug him.”
“Whizzle, but you certainly took the wind out of my sails, as Cousin
Bob says,” Betsy declared, “I’ve always been scared of Chinamen and
to see you actually embracing one! I dunno as I’ll ever recover from
the shock.”
“I don’t believe there’s a kinder, nobler, more faithful race of
people on this earth,” Margaret championed, “and Sing Long is just
like home folks to Virginia, isn’t he Virg?”
The shining-eyed girl nodded. “He surely is. Why, Betsy, Sing was
here before mother came as a bride. I’m so glad he wanted to come
back. I wouldn’t have Uncle Tex know it, not for worlds, but I was
rather dreading the responsibility of cooking for so many people,
and now we won’t have anything to do, but plan—”
“Mysteries,” Betsy cut in. Then she asked: “Virg, I may be slow as a
detective, but I certainly do think the way you keep looking in
first one direction and then another is most mysterious.”
The young hostess sat down in one of the comfortable yucca chairs.
“Have you noticed it?” she inquired, “Well, then, I’ll explain. I’m
not really worried, but I’ll confess I am puzzled.”
She then told the other three girls all that Uncle Tex knew of her
brother’s sudden departure two nights before.
Megsy smiled and nodded toward the little stranger-to-the-desert,
for, with a brow supposedly wrinkled in deep thought, she sat gazing
across the shining stretch of sand toward the mountains.
“What do you make of it, Mistress Detective?” Babs asked merrily.
“I don’t,” was the frank answer. “Virg, what do you?”
“Well,” the oldest girl replied, “since Lucky rode in, after
nightfall, in such haste and told brother that he was sure he had
hit the trail, I conclude that there had been a—”
“Oh, do you think it was a holdup, or something like that?” This
from the eager Betsy.
“No, I don’t. I think a mountain lion may have been killing the
young calves and that Lucky and Slim have been trying to trail it.”
“How disappointing! I’m not at all interested in solving a mystery
which has only a mountain lion in the leading part.”
Babs teased. “I’ll say you aren’t. You wouldn’t want to start on any
clues that would lead you to a lion’s den.”
“Girls,” Virg suddenly exclaimed, “our guest of honor has forgotten
to come. There he goes riding along the creek bottom, so we’ll have
to drink the tea, for, if we don’t, it will soon be cold.”
“Oh dear, that is too bad! It’s piping hot now and this pot holds
six cups. Can’t we find another guest of honor to—”
“Lookee! Lookee!” Betsy had leaped to her feet and was pointing
toward the trail that led from the sandhills.
Two horsemen were approaching at a gallop, and Virginia cried, “Oh,
how I hope one of them is Brother Malcolm.”
“Then the mystery will be solved,” Betsy exclaimed joyfully.
As the horsemen neared, Virg and Margaret ran out of the summer
house and waved their handkerchiefs for they were no longer in doubt
as to the identity of the newcomers.
There was an answering shout of joy from the one in the lead and
Malcolm leaped from his horse and ran toward them waving his
sombrero. The older cowboy led the ponies to the corral.
“O brother, brother,” Virginia’s welcome was at once laughing and
tearful, as she was caught in the lad’s strong arms. “I’m glad, glad
I went away just for the joy of knowing what home means. Not that I
didn’t always love it here, but Oh, brother, you can’t guess how
many wakeful hours I had just hungering to hear your voice, and now,
if you’ll let me I’m going to stay right here for ever and ever and
ever.”
The giant of a lad laughed happily as he turned to greet his ward,
who, with flushed cheeks and a wistful light in her tender brown
eyes, was waiting near until the brother and sister had welcomed
each other. Then Babs came and Betsy was introduced. “This is our
would-be young detective,” Virg said merrily. “She declares that the
desert is an ideal setting for a mystery and so we girls are going
to make up one and let her solve it.”
“You won’t have to invent one,” Malcolm declared as he dropped into
the yucca chair toward which his sister had led him. “Lucky and I
have been awake two days and nights trying to solve one that is very
real. Slim is working on it, too, but he has a Mexican boy with him
and they have ridden toward Sonora.”
“Oh Mr. Davis!” Betsy leaned forward eagerly. “What are the clews?
Do tell us.”
But Virginia said: “Not until brother has had some refreshment.”
Then to Malcolm: “I don’t suppose you’ve had a thing to eat this
noon.”
“Righto, and for that matter Lucky and I had very little for
breakfast. We had no idea that we would find ourselves on a blind
trail,” the lad began; then ended with:
“So a cup of tea will do well for a starter.” He accepted the
delicate blue cup that Barbara handed him with an amused smile.
Lucky was approaching shyly, sombrero in hand. Virginia, chancing to
see him, stepped out of the summer house and beckoned to him.
His awkward bow when he was introduced would have amused Betsy at
another time, but just then her entire thought was given to the
mystery about which she was soon to hear.
“No, ma’am, thanks.” Lucky twirled his hat and shifted from one foot
to the other when Barbara offered him one of the eggshell china
cups. “Ah jest wanted to say howdy to yo-all.” He was visibly
embarrassed. Then with a nod toward the house he added, “Sing said
frijoli all hottee.”
Malcolm rose. “Young ladies,” he addressed them all, “if you will
permit us to satisfy our inner cravings, I’ll promise within the
hour to tell you all the clews we have been able to discover.”
Lucky had gone on ahead and Virginia, linking her arm in that of her
brother, walked with him toward the house.
“Can’t you give me an inkling of an idea as to what it is all about?
Is it anything we girls can help solve?”
The lad was at once serious. “No, sister. You girls are better off
here at home with Uncle Tex, but we’ll report progress each time we
return.”
Virginia looked troubled. “Oh brother, are you going away again?
Surely not today.”
“Not until morning,” he replied. “We’ll both be better fit after a
good night’s sleep.” Then at the kitchen porch, she left him and
walked slowly back to the summer house. The three girls eagerly
awaited her.
“Did Malcolm tell you the clews?” Of course this was from Betsy.
“Why, no,” Virginia declared. “I was so concerned about my brother
that I forgot to ask him where he had been or why.” Then Margaret
had an inspiration.
“It’s after five by my little wrist watch and so I suggest that we
put away the tea things and have our supper of nice frijolies and
bread in the kitchen with the boys. They can tell us the clews while
we’re eating, for I am sure they will want to tumble into bed as
soon as they can.”
Virginia looked at her other guests to see if the plan met with
their approval. She was not long left in doubt. “Oh, goodie, I’d
love to have supper with a real cowboy. My Cousin Bob will be green
with envy when I write him about it.” Betsy was gathering up the
spoons as she spoke. Soon the little procession approached the
house.
Malcolm saw them coming and smiled. “I tell you, Lucky, it seems
mighty nice to see that sister of mine once more. Maybe it’s selfish
of me, but I hope she won’t want to go away again.”
Lucky, having finished his supper, rose as the girls entered the
long kitchen that was flooded with the late afternoon sun.
The middle aged cowboy spoke apologetically: “Miss Virginia, if
yo-all will excuse me, Ah’ll turn in. Ah reckon Ah cain’t keep
awake, an’ Malcolm here and me’s figgerin’ on hittin’ the trail
again come sunup.”
When he was gone, Sing Long served the girls to heaping plates of
steaming frijolies, generous slices of cornbread and tumblers
brimming with creamy milk. This fare greatly delighted Betsy for it
was very different from that to which she was accustomed.
Malcolm told Sing Long that he, too, might go, as they no longer
needed him. When they were alone, the giant of a lad smiled about at
the girls, who were eagerly awaiting the beginning of his story.
“Now,” Virginia said when the door closed behind the Chinaman, “what
happened first?”
“We heard about it last Monday,” Malcolm began, “Lucky and I were
loping slowly along down near the station. We were on the outlook
for strays when we saw little Davie Wells riding toward his home
from the direction of the Three Sand Hills as though a stampede of
cattle was about to overtake him.”
“‘What’s up with the kid, d’ye reckon,’ Lucky asked me, and I
replied, ‘By the way he keeps looking back over his shoulder, you’d
think he was being pursued, but I don’t see anything chasing him.’
“When the lad was near enough for us to see his face, we knew,
without his telling us, that he was very much excited about
something.
“‘Hi-o! Davie, has there been a train robbery?’ I shouted when he
was near enough to hear. He evidently had not seen us, but upon
hearing my voice, he wheeled his pony and galloped toward us. I
repeated my question.
“‘Nope,’ he replied breathlessly. ‘Leastwise there ain’t been one
yet, but Pa says sure as a cactus ain’t a mesquite thar’ll be a
robbery in these here parts afore sunup tomorrow, Pa says it’s sure
sartin.’
“Of course we were interested. We never knew our respected station
master to prophesy anything but that it came to pass with almost
uncanny accuracy, so Lucky and I drew rein and listened to what the
little fellow had to tell, but when we had heard him out, all we
could make of it was that a queer kind of caravan had been seen
leaving Douglas early that morning headed toward Silver Creek. Davie
thought maybe there were half a dozen covered wagons and a dozen
mules and dogs, but he wasn’t certain. The cowboy who’d seen the
outfit hadn’t stopped to count them.
“‘Gypsies, I reckon,’ was Lucky’s conclusion, ‘and if so, kid, your
pa’s right. Thar’ll be some stealin’ ’fore sunup sure sartin.’ Then
he looked at me with a puzzled expression as he said, ‘Malcolm, I
never heard tell of gypsies trailin’ across the desert hereabouts,
have you now?’
“I agreed that I had not, but the lad’s description seemed to fit
and so we let it go at that.
“‘Wall, I must be off.’ Davie seemed suddenly to remember his former
haste but I detained him long enough to ask, ‘Where are you going in
such a hurry?’
“‘Over to Slater’s to warn ’em ‘bout that robbery as Pa says it’s
sure sartin.’
“Davie’s little wild pony needed no urging and a second later all we
could see of him was a racing sand cloud. I laughed, but Lucky
seemed to take the matter more seriously. ‘What do you make of it?’
I asked when I had let him study on the matter in silence for
several moments.
“‘Ah jest don’t,’ he replied. ‘Ah cain’t figure nohow why a caravan
of gypsies ’d start across this here trackless part of the desert.’
“‘It isn’t as trackless as it used to be,’ I reminded him, ‘for now
that all the ranchers own automobiles there’s a makeshift sort of a
road from one place to the next.’
“‘Mebbe so, but Ah cain’t figger out why gypsies would go to all the
trouble of draggin that there caravan o’ theirs through the sand
jest to be robbin’ ranches. They couldn’t make fast enough time to
get away with it. More’n likely, if they was gypsies, they-all
thought as how this might be a short cut to some place up north
where they’re bound for.’
“I agreed that Lucky’s version was probably the correct one, and, as
we saw no evidence of the reported caravan in our neighborhood, I
doubtless would never have thought of them again if it hadn’t been
for something which happened that very night.”
Malcolm paused and the girls, having ceased eating to listen, leaned
forward with renewed interest.
“Oh, brother, what happened? Please don’t stop there.”
The lad smiled. “I only stopped to take a breath. That is
permissible, isn’t it?”
“Oh-ee! I’m so excited.” Betsy’s flushed cheeks and glowing eyes
were evidence that what she said was true. “Did the gypsy caravan
come?”
“Was the station master’s prophecy correct?” Margaret asked.
“Were we robbed?” Virginia inquired anxiously.
Malcolm rose. “Let’s go in by the fire,” he said. “Sing Long wants
to clean the table.” The Chinaman had been opening the door from his
room every few moments to see if the young people were through.
Following Malcolm’s suggestion the girls led the way into the big
living room. The lad put a dry mesquite root on the coals and then
sat down in his favorite grandfather chair. “Yes, indeed, something
of an unusual nature happened that night and this is what it was:”