Tom and his father had visited his sister and Ruth at Ardmore; the young
fellow was no stranger to the girls whom Ruth had invited to join the
party bound for Freezeout Camp. Of course, Jennie Stone knew Helen's
black-eyed twin from old times when they were children.
"Dear me, how you've grown, Tommy!" observed the plump girl, looking Tom
over with approval.
"For the first time since I've known you, Jennie, I cannot return the
compliment," Tom said seriously.
"Gee!" sighed the erstwhile fat girl, ecstatically, "am I not glad!"
That next day all arrived. Ruth and Helen were the last, they reaching
the hotel just before bedtime. But Tom was forever wandering through the
foyer and parlors to spy a certain hat and figure that he was sure he
should know again. He was tempted to tell Helen and her chums about the
chauffeur and the strange young lady while they were all enjoying a late
supper.
"However, a man alone, with such a number of girls, has to be mighty
careful," so Tom told himself, "that they don't get something on him.
They'd rig me to death, and I guess Tommy had better keep his tongue
between his teeth."
The train on which the party had obtained reservations left the
Pennsylvania Station at ten o'clock in the forenoon. Half an hour before
that time Tom came down to the hotel entrance ahead of the girls and
instructed the starter to bespeak two taxicabs.
As Tom stepped out of the wide open door he saw the motor-car with the
monogram on the door, the same chauffeur driving, and the girl with the
"stunning" hat in the tonneau. The car was just moving away from the
door and it was but a fleeting glimpse Tom obtained of it and its
occupants. They did not even glance at him.
"Guess I was fooling myself after all," he muttered. "At any rate, I
fancy they aren't so greatly interested. They're not following us,
that's sure."
The girls came hurrying down, with Miss Cullam in tow, all carrying
their hand baggage. Trunks had gone on ahead, although Ruth had warned
them all that, once off the train at Yucca, only the most necessary
articles of apparel could be packed into the mountain range.
"Remember, we are dependent upon burros for the transportation of our
luggage; and there are only just about so many of the cunning little
things in all Arizona. We can't transport too large a wardrobe."
"Are the burros as cunning as they say they are?" asked Trix Davenport.
"All of that," said Tom. "And great singers."
"Sing? Now you are spoofing!" declared the coxswain of Ardmore's
freshman eight.
"All right. You wait and see. You know what they call 'em out there?
Mountain canaries. Wait till you hear a love-lorn burro singing to his
mate. Oh, my!"
"The idea!" ejaculated Miss Cullam. "What does the boy mean by
'love-lorn'?"
It was a hilarious party that alighted from the taxicabs in the station
and made its way to the proper part of the trainshed. The sleeping car
was a luxurious one, and when the train pulled out and dived into the
tunnel under the Hudson ("just like a woodchuck into its hole," Trix
said) they were comfortably established in their seats.
Tom had secured three full sections for the girls. Miss Cullam had Lower
Two while Tom himself had Upper Five. There was some slight discussion
over this latter section, for the berth under Tom had been reserved for
a lady.
"Well, that's all right," said Tom philosophically. "If she can stand
it, _I_ can. Let the conductor fight it out with her."
"Perhaps she will want you to sleep out on the observation platform,
Tommy," said Jennie Stone, wickedly. "To be gallant you'd do it, of
course?"
"Of course," said Tom, stoutly. "Far be it from me to add to the burden
on the mind of any female person. It strikes me that they are mostly in
trouble about something all the time."
"Oh, oh!" cried Helen. "Villain! Is that the way I've brought you up?"
Tom grinned at his sister wickedly. "Somehow your hand must have slipped
when you were molding me, Sis. What d'you think?"
When the time came to retire, however, there was no objection made by
the lady who had reserved Lower Five. Of course, in these sleeping cars
the upper and lower berths were so arranged that they were entirely
separate. But in the morning Tom chanced to be coming from his berth
just as the lady started down the corridor for the dressing room.
"My!" thought Tom. "That's some pretty girl. Who----"
Then he caught a glimpse of her face, just as she turned it hastily from
him. He had seen it once before--just as a certain motor-car was drawing
away from the front of the Delorphion Hotel.
"No use talking," he thought. "I've got to take somebody into my
confidence about this girl. To keep such a mystery to myself is likely
to affect my brain. Humph! I'll tell Ruth. She can keep a secret--if she
wants to," and he went off whistling to the men's lavatory at the other
end of the car.
Later he found Ruth on the observation platform. They were alone there
for some time and Tom took her into his confidence.
"Don't tell Helen, now," he urged. "She'll only rig me. And I'm bound to
have a bad enough time with all you girls, as it is."
"Poor boy," Ruth said, commiseratingly. "You _are_ in for a bad time,
aren't you? What about this strange and mysterious female in Lower
Five?"
But as he related the details of the mystery, about the chauffeur and
all, Ruth grew rather grave.
"As we go through to the dining car for breakfast let us see if we can
establish her identity," she told him. "Never mind saying anything to
the other girls about it. Just point her out to me."
"Say! I'm not likely to spread the matter broadcast," retorted Tom.
"Only I _am_ curious."
So was Ruth. But she bided her time and sharply scrutinized every female
figure she saw in the cars as they trooped through to breakfast. She
waited for Tom to point out this "mysterious lady;" but the girl of
Lower Five did not appear.
The train was rushing across the prairies in mid-forenoon when Tom came
suddenly to Ruth and gave her a look that she knew meant "Follow me."
When she got up Jennie drawled:
"Now, see here, Ruthie! What's going on between that perfectly splendid
brother of Cameron's and you? Are you trying to make the rest of us
girls jealous?"
"Perhaps," Ruth replied, smiling, then hurried with her chum's brother
into the next car.
"Oh!" exclaimed Ruth suddenly, and she stopped by the door.
"Know her?" asked Tom, with curiosity.
Ruth nodded and hastily turned away so that the girl might not see that
she was observed.
"Well, now!" cried Tom. "Tip me off. Explain--elucidate--make clear. I'm
as puzzled as I can be."
"So am I, Tommy," Ruth told him. "I haven't the least idea _why_ that
girl should be interested in our affairs. And I'm not sure that she
_is_."
"Who is she?" he demanded.
"She goes to college with us. Not in our class, you understand. I am
sure none of our party had an idea Edie Phelps was going West this
vacation."
"Huh!" said Tom suspiciously. "What's up your sleeve, Ruth?"
"My arm!" she cried, and ran back to the other girls and Miss Cullam,
laughing at him.
Edith's presence on this train was puzzling.
"That was a man's handwriting on the envelope Helen and I picked up
addressed to Edith," Ruth told herself. "Some man has been writing to
her from that Mohave County town. Who? And what for?"
"Not that it is really any of my business," she concluded.
She did not take Helen into her confidence in the matter. Let the other
girls see Edith Phelps if they chanced to; she determined to stir up no
"hurrah" over the sophomore.
Besides, it was not at all sure that Edith was going to Arizona. Her
presence upon this train did not prove that her journey West had any
connection with the letter Edith had received from Yucca.
"Why so serious, honey?" asked Helen a little later, pinching her chum's
arm.
"This is a serious world, my dear," quoth Ruth, "and we are growing
older every minute."
"What novel ideas you do have," gibed her chum, big-eyed. But she shook
her a little, too. "There you go, Ruthie Fielding! Always having some
secret from your owniest own chum."
"How do you know I have a secret?" smiled Ruth.
"Because of the two little lines that grow deeper in your forehead when
you are puzzled or troubled," Helen told her, rather wickedly. "Sure
sign you'll be married twice, honey."
"Don't suggest such horrid possibilities," gasped the girl of the Red
Mill in mock horror. "Married twice, indeed! And I thought we had both
given up all intention of being wedded even the _first_ time?"
This chaff was all right to throw in Helen's eyes; but all the time Ruth
expected one of the party to discover the presence of Edith Phelps on
the train. She felt that with such discovery there would come an
explosion of some kind; and she shrank from having any trouble with the
sophomore.
Of course, with Miss Cullam present, Edith was not likely to display her
spleen quite so openly as she sometimes did when alone with the other
Ardmore girls. But Ruth knew Helen would be so curious to know what
Edith's presence meant that "the fat would all be in the fire."
It was really amazing that Edith was not discovered before they reached
Chicago. After that her reservation was in another car. Then on the
fifth night of their journey came something that quite put the sophomore
out of Ruth Fielding's mind, and out of Tom Cameron's as well.
They had changed trains and were on the trans-continental line when the
startling incident happened. The porter had already begun arranging the
berths when the train suddenly came to a jarring stop.
"What is the matter?" asked Miss Cullam of the porter. She already had
her hair in "curlers" and was longing for bed.
"I done s'pect we broke in two, Ma'am," said the darkey, rolling his
eyes. "Das' jes' wot it seems to me," and he darted out of the car.
There was a long wait; then some confusion arose outside the train. Tom
came in from the rear. "Here's a pretty kettle of fish," he said.
"What is it, Tommy?" demanded his sister.
"The train broke in two and the front end got over a bridge here, and,
being on a down grade, the engineer could not bring his engine to a stop
at once. And now the bridge is afire. Come on out, girls. You might as
well see the show."