The girls entered the ranch house living room and stood looking
about.
“How queer not to hear a sound,” Margaret said. “Why does it seem so
much more still than usual do you suppose?”
“Perhaps because we do not hear the shouting of the Mahoy children,”
Virg replied. “They are usually at play in the door yard at this
hour. Let’s go over to their home and ask Mrs. Mahoy where everyone
is.”
With a heart filled with an unaccountable foreboding, Virg led the
way to the small adobe back of the big ranch house and nearer the
dry creek.
As they approached they saw the four small children seated on the
porch step huddled together. The oldest girl was softly crying, the
two younger ones looked frightened, as though something had happened
which they could not understand, and Patsy, though his lips were
quivering, seemed to be trying not to cry.
Virginia leaped forward, and kneeling put her arms about the sobbing
girl, then, looking at the boy, she said, “Patsy, lad, what has
happened? Is your mother—”
She said no more, for the door opened and the little Irish woman
appeared. She had on her hat and carried a bundle. The kneeling girl
sprang to her feet. “Mrs. Mahoy,” she said with a new alarm in her
heart, “where are you going? Has anything happened in the mine?”
The little woman nodded. “Indeed there has, Miss Virginia. It’s
caved in somewheres. A boy from Slater’s just rode over to get you,
but bein’ as you wasn’t here, I was starting mesilf. It’s thankful I
am as ye’ve come, for I was beside mesilf entoirely not knowin’ what
to do wid the children. Me Pat is all right, the saints be praised,
but—” she hesitated.
“Malcolm, what about Malcolm?” It was Margaret who asked the
question, her eyes thought of what might have happened to her
guardian.
The little Irish woman hardly knew how to reply. “The boy said as
how they hadn’t found him yet,” she told them, “but, like as not,
they have by this time,” she hastened to add. “Uncle Tex went right
back with the boy an’ I was goin’ mesilf with liniments and
bandages.”
“I will take them, Mrs. Mahoy. You stay with the children.” Then
turning to the other girl, Virginia added: “Margaret, perhaps you
would better remain at home. I’ll send the Slater boy back with a
message as soon as I know that all is well.”
She glanced anxiously at her adopted sister. There had been a long
ride already that morning and Megsy was not as strong as the other.
“I am going with you,” was the quiet reply, and Virg knew that when
Margaret spoke that way there was nothing more to be said.
Mrs. Mahoy had disappeared, but was quickly back in the open
doorway, her hat removed. “Miss Virginia,” she said, “I’ve put the
kettle on and in a minute now I’ll have a snack for you to be eatin’
before yez start on the ride to the mine.”
Half an hour later the girls were again in the saddle and were
following the trail across Dry Creek toward Seven Peak Range.
Virginia’s heart was filled with self-reproach, because she had
permitted Malcolm to carry more than his share of the
responsibility, and yet, how could she have helped it? It had been
all work and no play for him ever since their father died. Suddenly
she realized that Margaret was riding close at her side.
“Dear,” Megsy said, and there was a quiver in her voice, “try not to
grieve yet. Wait until we know more. I feel sure that all is well
with my guardian.” But was all well with the brave, strong, quiet
Malcolm?