  “What a glorious moonlit night it is!” Merry exclaimed when, Meg and Dan having gone, the others turned back toward the cabin. “I say, sis,” Bob exclaimed, “why not get that telegram written and let me take it down to the village. You can put heaps more into a night letter.” “Why, Bobby, it must be after nine. The innkeeper’s family will be asleep by the time you could get there.” Jean Willoughby explained: “They have two sons, and one of them is always on duty as night clerk. Strangers motoring through put up there at all hours.” Then the young overseer added: “I wish now that I had ridden over and you could have used my horse.” “We sent the two we had back to the Heger cabin,” Bob said, but added, as he took a handspring to prove to his sister that he was not at all tired, “I’d just as soon walk.” Then, as another thought occurred to him, he turned to the younger lad, asking, “If you’re game, Gerry, come along with me. We’ll put up at the inn for the night and bring back the answer from father as soon as it comes.” Since there was no particular reason why they should not do this, Merry and Jane made no further remonstrances. Going indoors, a carefully planned night letter was prepared and in great glee the two boys started out, each carrying a gun, as Jean told them that they might meet a wildcat. “Huh! I hoped you were going to say a grizzly bear.” Gerry’s tone seemed to imply that they were quite fearless. Soon after the boys had departed, Dan returned. Glancing at Jean, he questioned: “Ought we to follow them?” But the other lad replied: “They’re safe enough! Moreover, I told Bob to swing a red lantern three times when they reach the inn. The night is so clear, we surely can see it.” And so they waited, and an hour later the expected signal was plainly seen by all of them. “Now to bed, everybody!” Dan sprang up and held both hands toward his sister Jane. Julie had been prevailed upon to retire soon after the lads started out and was sound asleep. The girls had decided to be up at an early hour, but because they had gone to bed much later than usual they overslept. It was after noon before Meg appeared. “Ma Heger” had needed her help, was all that she said. Jane and Merry decided not to tell her about the night letter, for the suspense would be far harder for her to bear than it was for them. But after a time Meg began to wonder why, at frequent intervals, one or another of the young people went to the top of the stone stairs, and through field glasses, gazed down the mountain road. It was two o’clock when the old stage was seen slowly ascending. “I entirely forgot that the stage passes us on Saturday afternoon,” Dan exclaimed. “Of course, Bob and Gerry waited to ride up.” But as the lumbering vehicle neared, the passengers were seen to be all adults—a west valley rancher, his wife and grown daughters. Then, just as the watchers had given up hope, the two laughing boys dropped from the back of the stage and ran up the stone stairs. Paying no heed to the others, Bob leaped over to where Meg was standing, and making a deep bow, he handed her a yellow envelope. “But this is for Merry,” the mountain girl told him. “True enough!” and Bob gave the telegram to his sister. Opening it, she read:
While all of the others congratulated the beautiful girl, Dan stood aside with sorrow in his heart. He had asked Meg to marry him when he thought her poor. Even then they would have had a long wait, for he had wanted to help his father for a time before he considered his own happiness. Meg looked over at the lad whom she so loved. “Aren’t you also glad for me, Dan?” she asked. “Yes, very glad,” he said, but he was more than ever pleased that he and Meg had not told of their engagement, which might never be fulfilled. When the excitement had somewhat subsided, Bob recalled that he had a letter for Jean Willoughby, and, bringing it forth, presented it to the young man, who looked inquiringly at the handwriting; then with a quick, questioning glance at Merry, he tore it open and read its message. “Marion Starr,” he cried, “you wrote my father, did you not, telling him where you found me?” It was evident that he was not displeased. The golden haired girl nodded, then waited eagerly to hear what manner of message the letter contained. “Dan,” said Bob, “your father and mine are again partners, for Dad has restored the money that had been supposedly lost. Since your father had recompensed the investors, the firm of Abbott & Willoughby, as re-established, is much richer than it was, for while holding the money, Dad made investments that have tripled the capital of the firm. Nor is that all! Father has set aside money to start my brother and me in any business we may choose, and your father is to do the same for each of his boys as the need arises.” Before Dan could speak, Jean hurried on with, “Mr. Packard has offered to divide his ranch in three parts, and Jane and I are to have one of them. Dan, you love the West. It agrees with you. Won’t you take the third?” “That’s wonderful news!” Dan cried glowingly. “Indeed I would like to own a third of the Green Hills ranch.” Then to the surprise of the others, he went to the mountain girl with hands outstretched, and said, his voice tense with feeling: “Meg—Eulalie—may I set the day for our wedding?” The dusky eyes of the beautiful girl were more than ever starlike as she nodded up at him. “Great!” he cried joyfully. “Then we will all be married on the first of September.” |
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