"Well, let's go along and see Flapjack's daughter," Tom proposed. "I
don't want to make the acquaintance of any strange girl without somebody
to defend me," and he grinned at the girl of the Red Mill.
"Oh, yes. We know just how desperately timid you are, Tommy-boy," she
told him, smiling. "I will be your shield and buckler. Lead on."
The house had a yellow front, but was elsewhere left bare of paint. It
stood away from its neighbors and, as Ruth and Tom Cameron approached
it, it seemed deserted. From other houses they were frankly watched by
slatternly women and several idle men.
Tom rapped gently at the front door. There was no reply and after
repeating the summons several times Ruth suggested that they try a rear
entrance.
"Huh!" complained the boy. "This Min they tell of must be deaf."
"Or bashful. Perhaps she is nothing but a child and is afraid of us."
Tom merely grunted in reply, and led the way into a weed-grown yard. The
fence was of wire and laths--the kind bought by the roll ready to set up;
but it was very much dilapidated. The fence had never been finished at
the rear and up on a scrubby side hill behind the house a man was
wielding an axe.
"Maybe he knows something about this Flapjack Peters person," grumbled
Tom.
"Knock on the back door," ordered Ruth Fielding briskly. "If that guide
has a daughter she must know where he's gone, and for how long. It's the
most mysterious thing!"
"It gets me," admitted Tom, knocking again.
"Mr. Hammond said that he knew this guide and that he believed he was a
fairly trustworthy person. He is what they call an 'old-timer'--been
living here or hereabout for years and years. Just the person to find
Freezeout Camp."
"Well, there must be other men who know their way about the hills," and
Tom turned his back to the door to look straight away across the valley
toward the faint, blue eminences that marked the Hualapai Range.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" sighed Ruth, likewise looking at the
mountains. "How clear the air is! See that peak away to the north? We
saw it from the car window. That is the tallest mountain in the
range--Hualapai Peak. Oh, Tom!"
"Yes?" he asked.
"That man looks awfully funny to me. Do you see----?"
Tom wheeled to look at the person chopping wood a few rods away. The
woodchopper wore an old felt hat; from underneath its brim flowed
several straggly locks of black hair.
"Must be an Indian," muttered Tom.
"It must be a woman!" exclaimed Ruth. "It is a woman, Tom! I'm going to
ask her----"
"What?" demanded the youth; but he trailed along behind the self-reliant
girl of the Red Mill.
The woodchopper did not even raise her head as the two young folks
approached. She beat upon the log she was splitting with the old axe and
showed not the least interest in their presence.
Ruth led the way around in front of her and demanded:
"Do you know where Mr. Peters' daughter is? We had business with him,
and they tell us he is away from home."
At that the woman in men's shabby habiliments raised her head and looked
at them.
"Jiminy!" exploded Tom, but under his breath. "It is a girl!"
Ruth was quite as curious as her companion; but she was wise enough to
reveal nothing in her own countenance but polite interest.
The masquerader was both young and pretty; only the perspiration had
poured down her face and left it grimy. Her hands were red and
rough--calloused as a laboring man's and with blunted fingers and broken
nails.
When she stood up straight, however, even the overalls and jumper she
wore, and the broken old hat upon her head, could not hide the fact that
she was of a graceful figure.
"I beg your pardon," said Ruth again. "Can you tell me where Miss Peters
is?"
"I can tell you where _Min_ Peters is, if you want to know so bad,"
drawled the girl, red suffusing her bronzed cheeks and a little flash
coming into her big gray eyes.
"That--that must be the person we wish to see."
"Then see her," snapped the other ungraciously. "An' I s'pose you fancy
folks think her a sight, sure 'nuff."
"You mean _you_ are Mr. Peters' daughter?" Ruth asked, doubtfully.
"I'm Flapjack's girl," the other said, biting her remarks off short.
"Oh!" cried Ruth. "Then you can tell us all about it."
"All about what?"
"How it happens that your father is not here at Yucca to meet us?"
"Huh! What would he want to meet you for?" asked the girl, shaking back
her straggly hair.
"Why, it was arranged by Mr. Hammond that Mr. Peters should guide us
into the Range. We are going to Freezeout Camp."
"Wha-at?" drawled Min Peters in evident surprise. "You, too?"
Tom here put in a word. "I am the one who telegraphed to Mr. Peters when
we were on the way here. It was understood through Mr. Hammond that Mr.
Peters was to hold himself in readiness for our party."
"Then what about them other girls?" demanded the girl, with sudden
vigor. "They done fooled pop, did they?"
"I don't understand what you mean by 'those other girls,'" Ruth hastened
to say.
"Why, pop's already started for the hills. I I dunno whether he's goin'
to Freezeout or not. There ain't nobody at that old camp, nohow. Dunno
what you want to go there for."
Ruth waived that matter to say, eagerly:
"How many girls are there in this party your father has gone off with?"
"Two. He 'spected more I reckon, for there's a bunch of ponies down in
Jeb's corral. But the girl that bossed the thing said you-all had backed
out. It looked right funny to _me_--two girls goin' off there into the
hills. And she was a tenderfoot all right."
"You mean the girl who 'bossed' the affair?" asked Tom, curiously.
"Yep. The other girl seemed jest driftin' along with her. _She_ knowed
how to ride, and she brought her own saddle and rope with her. But that
there tenderfoot started off sidesaddle, like a missioner."
"A 'missioner?'" repeated Ruth, curiously.
"These here women that sometimes come here teachin' an' preachin'. They
most all of 'em ride sidesaddle. Many of 'em on a burro at that. 'Cause
a burro don't never git out of a walk if he kin help it. But I've purty
near broke my neck teachin' four or five of the ponies to stand for a
sidesaddle--poor critters. I rid 'em with a blanket wrapped 'round me to
git 'em used to a skirt flappin'," and she spoke in some amusement.
"Well," Ruth said, more briskly, "I don't exactly understand those girls
going without us. One of them I am sure is our friend. The girl who
evidently engaged your father is not a stranger to us; but she was not
of our party."
"What in tarnation takes you 'way into them mountains to Freezeout?"
demanded Min Peters. "There ain't a sign of color left there, so pop
says; and he's prospected all through the range on that far side. Why,
he remembers Freezeout when it was a real camp. And I kin tell you there
ain't much left of it now."
"Oh!" cried Ruth. "Have you seen it?"
"Sure. I been all through the Range with pop. He didn't have nobody to
leave me with when I was little. I ain't never had no chance like other
girls," said Min, in no very pleasant tone. "Why I ain't scurcely human,
I reckon!"
At that Ruth laughed frankly at her. "What nonsense!" she cried. "You
are just as human and just as much of a girl as any of us. As I am. Your
clothes don't even hide the fact that you are a girl. But I suppose you
wear them because you can work easier in men's garments?"
"And that's where you s'pose mighty wrong," snapped Min.
"No?"
"I wear these old duds 'cause I ain't got no others to wear. That's
why."
She said it in an angry tone, and the red flowed into her cheeks again
and her gray eyes flashed.
"I never _did_ have nothin' like other girls. Pop bought me overalls to
wear when I was jest a kid; and that's about all he ever did buy me. He
thinks they air good enough. I haf to work like a boy; so why not dress
like a boy? Huh?"
Tom had moved away. Somehow he felt a delicacy about listening to this
frank avowal of the strange girl's trials. But Ruth was sympathetic and
she seized Min's unwilling hand.
"Oh, my dear!" she cried under her breath. "I am sorry. Can't you work
and earn money to clothe yourself properly?"
"What'll I do? The cattlemen won't hire me, though I kin rope and
hog-tie as well as any puncher they got. But they say a girl would make
trouble for 'em. Nobody around here ever has money enough to hire a girl
to do anything. I don't know nothing about cookin' or housework--'cept to
make flapjacks. I kin do camp cookin' as good as pop; only I don't use
two griddles at a time same's he does. But huntin' parties won't hire
me. It sure is tough luck bein' a girl."
"Oh, my dear!" cried Ruth again. "I don't believe that. There must be
some way of improving your condition."
"You show me how to earn some money, then," cried Min. "I'll dress as
fancy as any of you. Oh! I was watchin' you girls troop up from the
train. And that other girl that went off with pop this mornin'. _She_
gimme a look, now I tell you. I'd like to beat her up, I would!"
Ruth passed over this remark in silence. She was thinking. "Wait a
moment, Min," she begged, "I must speak to Mr. Cameron," and she led Tom
aside.
"Now, Tommy, we've just got to get to Freezeout Camp some way. We don't
want to wait here a week or more for the movie company to arrive. Mr.
Hammond expects me to have the first part of the scenario ready for the
director when he gets on the ground. And I _must_ see the old camp just
as it is."
"I'd like to know what that Edith Phelps has got to do with it--and why
Ann Hicks went off with her," growled Tom.
"Oh, dear! Don't you suppose I am just as curious as you are?" Ruth
demanded. "But _that_ doesn't get us anywhere."
"Well, what will get us to Freezeout?" he asked.
"Getting started, first of all," laughed Ruth. "And we can do it. This
girl can guide us just as well as her father could. We can get a man or
a boy to look after the ponies and the packtrain. A 'wrangler' don't
they call them on the ranch?"
"The girl looks capable enough," admitted Tom. "But what will your Miss
Cullam say to her?"
Ruth giggled. "Poor Miss Cullam is doomed to get several shocks, I am
afraid, before the trip is over."
"All right. You're the doctor," Tom said, grinning. "Looks to me like
some lark. This Min Peters is certainly a caution!"