RUTH GOES TO THE RESCUE
In one or two of the minor scenes, Ruth had been able to use Sandy
Banks and Slick Jones as extras. The two added a great deal to the
local color of the scenes in which they were used and Ruth only
regretted that she had not been able to use them more frequently.
As it was, the money the young director had given them in return
for “enjoyin’ themselves,” as they put it, had made them Ruth’s
great friends. As for Slick Jones, the best he had was none too good
for this favorite of his. The result was that the girls now found
themselves mounted on a pair of gentle though high-spirited colts
that seemed aware of the distinguished company they were in and
carried themselves accordingly.
It was a relief to Ruth to be doing something again. As the two girls
cantered along through the woods in the general direction of the
Chase cabin Ruth listened absently to Helen’s chatter. Her actual
thoughts were with the Chase girls.
They soon entered the tiny path that led to the Chase cabin. Here
the branches of the trees swept so low that the girls were forced to
dismount and tie their horses and proceed the rest of the distance on
foot.
Ruth’s ankle was unexpectedly painful, and she leaned rather heavily
on Helen’s supporting arm as they approached the cabin.
“Foolish child!” Helen was scolding. “You have no business to be
getting around at all to-day. Serve you right if you were laid up for
a week after this escapade——”
“Sh-h!” warned Ruth, her fingers tightening nervously on Helen’s arm.
“There are voices inside the cabin. Listen—a man’s voice!”
They stood still and listened, holding their breath so as not to lose
the slightest sound from the cabin.
They were close now. There was the low, heartbroken sound of a girl
sobbing—Ellen probably—another passionately raised woman’s voice and
the threatening growl of a man.
“A little closer!” urged Ruth, pulling Helen toward the window where
they might gain a glimpse of the room.
Cautiously they approached the house, avoiding the door so that no
sudden rush from within might take them by surprise. Stealing to one
of the windows they peered in and saw a tableau that might have
chilled the stoutest heart.
Ellen was crouched in the far corner of the cabin, on her drawn young
face an expression of terror. Characteristically, Mary bravely held
the old shotgun, but her hands shook so—with excitement as much as,
or more than, with fear, Ruth decided—that they could scarcely bear
the weight of it.
The third figure was that of a man. The girls outside could not see
his face, but even with his back to them he suggested sickeningly the
beast of prey, stalking his victim relentlessly and about to spring.
“Lieberstein!” whispered Ruth.
She shrank back from the window and faced Helen, a fierce light in
her eyes.
“Ride back to town, quick!” she cried. “Get some of the boys and
bring them here. I’ll try to hold Lieberstein if I can!”
“But your ankle——”
“Never mind me!” cried Ruth. “Helen, please don’t stop to argue!
Those two girls need help!”
“All right. I’ll be back with some one in a jiffy!”
In a flash she was off, running swiftly and noiselessly toward the
spot where they had left the horses.
Ruth approached the window again and looked in. She knew what
Lieberstein had come after. Mary had whispered to her only a short
time before—having come to know Ruth and to trust her—that her
father’s precious papers had been hidden by Ellen and herself in an
old cow horn back of a loose stone in the hearth. But when Ruth came
upon Lieberstein prowling close to the hiding place, Mary had become
alarmed and hidden the papers in a new spot. Where they were now she
had never revealed even to Ruth, for Mary Chase had learned caution
in a hard school!
Mary had been holding the shotgun, but as Ruth looked, the bully
wrenched it from her hands and kicked it contemptuously into one
corner of the cabin.
He sneered at Mary and advanced toward her, hands upraised
threateningly.
“You’ll threaten me, will you, you little rat!” Ruth heard him
say. “Well, I told you, didn’t I, that you’d get fresh with Max
Lieberstein once too often? I’m not goin’ to be put off any longer.
Now! will you tell me where you hid those papers your Dad set such
store by or won’t you?”
“I won’t!” cried Mary, undaunted, and reached behind her for the cane
her father had sometimes used.
“Drop that!” ordered Lieberstein, and sprang forward.
Ruth waited for no more.
She hobbled as swiftly as she could on her painful ankle to the door
and cautiously opened it. The two in the far corner of the room were
too engrossed to notice her. And Ellen, reaching with trembling hands
for a chair, seemed not to see her either.
The shotgun lay before Ruth. In a flash inspiration came to her. She
stooped and picked up the weapon, then retreated quickly toward the
door again.
“Hands up!” she cried in a clear, sharp voice. “We’ve got you!”
The ruse worked. Taken completely by surprise and thinking probably
that the girl was followed by a score of others, the cowardly rascal
whirled about, at the same time lifting his hands above his head.
“Now,” cried Ruth, eyes blazing. “You utter one more threat to that
girl if you dare!”
By this time Lieberstein began to realize that he had been the victim
of a clever ruse. He had been tricked, fooled, by a mere girl.
The fury of such a nature as Lieberstein’s beneath such provocation
can only be imagined. He was white with rage, and advanced upon Ruth
with both fists upraised.
“You—you—” he sputtered. “I’ll show you——”
But there was something about Ruth and her attitude as she stood
facing him that made him pause despite himself. For in that moment
the anger of the young director quite matched Lieberstein’s. And
she possessed one great advantage over him in that her mind became
more clear and calm the greater rage she felt and functioned with an
almost uncanny swiftness and accuracy.
“Don’t come another step!” she commanded in a voice that was as
clear and cold as the dropping of icicles. “Under the circumstances
I wouldn’t mind much if this gun did go off. And if you come much
closer, maybe it will. Keep that hand up, please!”
The command was so sharp and was accompanied by such a suggestive
motion of the shotgun that Lieberstein obeyed almost automatically.
His right hand that had been wandering toward his belt joined the
left above his head.
Ruth was excited and strangely exhilarated. She was holding the
scoundrel! If she could only keep this up for a short time longer
Helen would be back with some one from Knockout Point. Her ears
strained for the sound of approaching aid.
“You’ve got the drop on me this time,” snarled Lieberstein, his face
purple with rage. “Ruth Fielding, the great director, on the job
again! You’d better keep out of this, you——”
“Stop!”
It was Mary’s voice. She and Ellen had crept close to Ruth. Mary
grasped the heavy cane. Ellen had raised the chair above her head,
ready for action.
“You stop!” cried Mary again, her eyes steely as she looked at
Lieberstein. “Ruth Fielding is my friend. She has been kind to Ellen
and me. You are a fiend. Don’t you dare call her names.”
This new attack seemed to drive Lieberstein beyond himself with fury.
He ignored Ruth and the shotgun and charged down upon Mary, face
livid.
“Hands up—you!”
Lieberstein whirled about.
In the doorway stood Layton Boardman!