There was no escape from the wolf's attack, even had Ruth desired to
evade the encounter. The beast's flaming eyes showed his savage
intention only too plainly. To turn and run at this juncture would have
meant death for the brave girl. She stood at bay, the heavy bone poised
to strike, and let the creature approach.
He leaped, and with all her strength--and that was not slight--she struck
him. The wolf was knocked sideways to the ground. She followed up the
attack with a second and a third blow before he could recover his
footing.
The wound in his shoulder had bled a good deal, and Freckles' hard hoofs
had crippled one leg. He could not jump about with agility, and although
he was no coward, he was slow in returning to the charge.
When he did, Ruth struck again, and with good effect. Again and again
she beat him off. He once caught her skirt and tore it from the
waist-binding; but she eluded his powerful claws and struck him down
again. Then, falling upon him unmercifully, she beat his head into the
hard ground until he was all torn and bleeding and could not see to
scramble at her.
It was an awful experience for the girl; but she conquered her
antagonist before her strength was spent. When he lay, twitching his
limbs in the final throes, she staggered back to where her pony stood
and there, leaning upon his neck, sobbed and shook for several minutes,
while Freckles put his soft nose into her palm and nuzzled her
comfortably.
"Oh, oh, Freckles! what a terrible thing!" she sobbed. "He's dead! he's
dead!"
She could say nothing more, nor could she recover her self-possession
for some time. Then she climbed into the saddle and turned the pony's
head toward the deserted huts without once looking back at the
blood-bedabbled body and the gory club.
At the camp, however, she was once more her own mistress. The fact that
she must attend the sick man bolstered up her courage. She hobbled
Freckles again and recovered the bucket of water. John Cox (if that was
his name) raged in his fever and clutched at his precious coat, and was
not quiet again until she had cooled his head and hands with the fresh
water.
After that he fell into a light sleep and Ruth went about the cabin,
trying to set the poor furniture to rights and removing the debris that
had collected in the corners. Every few moments she was at the door,
looking out for either enemy or friend. But no other creature confronted
her until the sound of pony hoofs delighted her ear and Tom Cameron and
Jane Ann, with two of the cowboys from the Rolling River outfit, dashed
up to the shack.
"Ruth! Ruth!" cried the ranchman's niece, leaping off of her pony. "Come
out of that place at once! Do as I tell you----"
"Don't come here, dear--don't touch me," returned her friend, firmly. "I
know what I am about. I mean to stay and nurse this man. I do not
believe there is so much danger as Jib says----"
"Uncle Bill will have his hide!" cried Jane Ann, indignantly. "You wait
and see."
"It is not his fault. I came in here when he could not stop me. And I
mean to remain. But there is no use in anybody else being exposed to
contagion--if there is any contagion in the disease."
"Why, it's as bad as small-pox, Ruth!" cried Jane Ann.
"I am here," returned Ruth, quietly. "Have you brought us food? And is
that spirits in the bottle Mr. Darcy has?"
"Yes, Miss," said the cowboy.
"Set it down on that stone--and the other things. I'll come and get it. A
few drops of the liquor in the water may help the man a little."
"But, dear Ruth," interposed Tom, gravely, "he is nothing to you. Don't
run such risks. If the man must be nursed _I'll_ try my hand----"
"Indeed you shall not!"
"It's a job for a man, Miss," said Darcy, grimly. "You mount your pony
and go home with the others. I'll stay."
"If any harm is done, it's done already," declared the girl, earnestly.
"One of you can stay outside and help me--guard me, if you please.
There's been an awful old wolf about----"
"A wolf!" gasped Tom.
"But I killed him." She told them how and where. "And I lost Jib's gun.
He'll be furious."
"He'll lose more than his little old Colts," growled the second cowboy.
"It was not Jib's fault," declared the girl. "I could not so easily find
my way back to the river as he. I had to stay while he went for help.
Has word been sent on to the ranch?"
"Everything will be done that can be done for the fellow, of course,"
Jane Ann declared. "Uncle Bill will likely come over himself. Then there
_will_ be ructions, young lady."
"And what will Helen and the other girls say?" cried Tom.
"I wish I had thought," murmured Ruth. "I would have warned Jib not to
let Mary know."
"What's that?" asked Tom, in surprise, for he had but imperfectly caught
Ruth's words.
"Never mind," returned the girl from the Red Mill, quickly.
The others were discussing what should be done. Ruth still stood in the
doorway and now a murmur from the bed called her turn back into the
shack to make the unfortunate on the couch more comfortable--for in his
tossings he became more feverish and hot. When she returned to the outer
air the others had decided.
"Darcy and I will remain, Ruth," Tom said, with decision. "We'll bring
the water, and cook something for you to eat out here, and stand guard,
turn and turn about. But you are a very obstinate girl."
"As long as one is in for it, why increase the number endangered by the
fever?" she asked, coolly. "You are real kind to stay, Tom--you and
Darcy."
"You couldn't get me away with a Gatling gun," said Tom, grimly. "You
know _that_, Ruth."
"I know I have a staunch friend in you, Tommy," she said, in a low
voice.
"One you can trust?"
"To be sure," she replied, smiling seriously at him.
"Then what is all this about Mary Cox? What has _she_ got to do with the
fellow you've got hived up in that shack?" shot in Master Tom, shrewdly.
"Oh, now, Tommy!" gasped Ruth.
"You can't fool me, Ruth----"
"Sh! don't let the others hear you," she whispered. "And don't come any
nearer, Tom!" she added, warningly, and in a louder tone.
"But The Fox has something to do with this man?" demanded Tom.
"I believe so. I fear so. Oh, don't ask me any more!" breathed the girl,
anxiously, as Jane Ann and the cowboy rode up to say good-bye.
"I hope nothing bad will come of this, Ruth," said the ranch girl. "But
Uncle Bill will be dreadfully mad."
"Not with me, I hope," rejoined Ruth, shaking her head.
"And all the girls will be crazy to come out here and help you nurse
him."
"They certainly _will_ be crazy if they want to," muttered Tom.
"They would better not come near here until the man gets better--if he
ever _does_ get better," added Ruth, in a low tone.
"I expect they'll all want to come," repeated Jane Ann.
"Don't you let them, Jane Ann!" admonished Ruth. "Above all, don't you
let Mary Cox come over here--unless I send for her," and she went into
the shack again and closed the door.