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[Illustration: HE PUSHED RUTH ROUGHLY BACK INTO HER SEAT. Page 123]
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RUTH FIELDING
AND THE GYPSIES
Or
The Missing Pearl Necklace
By
ALICE B. EMERSON
Author of "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,"
"Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch," etc.
Illustrated
New York
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
Publishers
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Books for Girls
By ALICE B. EMERSON
RUTH FIELDING SERIES
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
Price per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.
RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL
Or, Jasper Parloe's Secret.
RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL
Or, Solving the Campus Mystery.
RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP
Or, Lost in the Backwoods.
RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT
Or, Nita, the Girl Castaway.
RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH
Or, Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys.
RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
Or, The Old Hunter's Treasure Box.
RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM
Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans.
RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES
Or, The Missing Pearl Necklace.
Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.
Copyright, 1915, by
Cupples & Leon Company
Ruth Fielding and the Gypsies.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. On the Lumano River 1
II. Roberto, the Gypsy 10
III. Evening at the Red Mill 19
IV. The Auto Tour 27
V. A Prophecy Fulfilled 37
VI. A Transaction in Mutton 43
VII. Fellow Travelers 53
VIII. What Was It All About? 61
IX. Queen Zelaya 69
X. In the Gypsy Camp 80
XI. Tom on the Trail 91
XII. A Break for Liberty 104
XIII. Ruth in the Toils 111
XIV. Roberto Again 116
XV. Helen's Escape 124
XVI. Through the Night and the Storm 133
XVII. Off for School Again 140
XVIII. Getting Into Harness 149
XIX. Can It Be Possible? 156
XX. He Cannot Talk 164
XXI. Ruth Intercedes 169
XXII. A Great Temptation 175
XXIII. Nettie Parsons' Feast 182
XXIV. Roberto Finds His Voice 190
XXV. Five Thousand Dollars 198
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RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES
CHAPTER I
ON THE LUMANO RIVER
The steady turning of the grinding-stones set the old Red Mill a-quiver
in every board and beam. The air within was full of dust--dust of the
grain, and fine, fine dust from the stones themselves.
Uncle Jabez Potter, the miller, came to the door and looked across the
grassy yard that separated the mill and the farmhouse attached from the
highroad. Under a broad-spreading tree sat two girls, busy with their
needles.
One, a sharp-faced, light-haired girl, who somehow carried a look of
endured pain in her eyes in spite of the smile she flung at the old man,
cried:
"Hello, Dusty Miller! come out and fly about a little. It will do you
good."
The grim face of the miller lightened perceptibly. "How do you reckon a
man like me kin fly, Mercy child?" he croaked.
"I'll lend you my aeroplanes, if you like," she returned, gaily, and
held up the two ebony canes which had been hidden by the tall grass.
_They_ told the story of Mercy Curtis' look of pain, but once she had
had to hobble on crutches and, as she pluckily declared, canes were
"miles better than crutches."
"I ain't got no time, gals, an' that's a fac'," said the miller, his
face clouding suddenly. "Ain't ye seen hide nor hair of Ben an' them
mules?"
"Why, Uncle," said the second girl, quietly, "you know how many errands
Ben had to do in town. He couldn't do them all and get back in so short
a time."
"I dunno about that, Niece Ruth--I dunno about that," said the old man,
sharply. "Seems ter me I could ha' gone an' been back by now. An' hi
guy! there's four sacks o' flour to take acrost the river to Tim
Lakeby--an' I kyan't do it by meself--Ben knows that. Takes two' on us
ter handle thet punt 'ith the river runnin' like she is right now."
The girl who had last spoken folded the work in her lap and got up
agilely. Her movements were followed--perhaps a little enviously--by the
gaze of the lame girl.
"How quick you are, Ruthie," she said. When Ruth Fielding looked down
upon Mercy Curtis, her smile started an answering one upon the lame
girl's thin face.
"Quick on my feet, dearie," said Ruth. "But you have so much quicker a
mind."
"Flatterer!" returned the other, yet the smile lingered upon the thin
face and made it the sweeter.
The miller was turning, grumblingly, back into the shadowy interior of
the mill, when Ruth hailed him.
"Oh, Uncle!" she cried. "Let me help you."
"What's that?" he demanded, wheeling again to look at her from under his
shaggy eyebrows.
Now, Ruth Fielding was worth looking at. She was plump, but not too
plump; and she was quick in her movements, while her lithe and graceful
figure showed that she possessed not only health, but great vitality.
Her hair was of a beautiful bright brown color, was thick, and curled
just a little.
In her tanned cheeks the blood flowed richly--the color came and went
with every breath she drew, it seemed, at times. That was when she was
excited. But ordinarily she was of a placid temperament, and her brown
eyes were as deep as wells. She possessed the power of looking
searchingly and calmly at one without making her glance either
impertinent or bold.
In her dark skirt, middy blouse, and black stockings and low shoes, she
made a pretty picture as she stood under the tree, although her
features were none of them perfect. Her cheeks were perhaps a little
too round; her nose--well, it was not a dignified nose at all! And her
mouth was generously large, but the teeth gleaming behind her red lips
were even and white, and her smile lit up her whole face in a most
engaging manner.
"Do let me help you, Uncle. I know I can," she repeated, as the old
miller scowled at her.
"What's that?" he said again. "Go with me in that punt to Tim Lakeby's?"
"Why not?"
"'Tain't no job for a gal, Niece Ruth," grumbled the miller.
"Any job is all right for a girl--if she can do it," said Ruth, happily.
"And I can row, Uncle--you know I can."
"Ha! rowing one o' them paper-shell skiffs of Cameron's _one_ thing; the
ash oars to my punt ain't for baby's han's," growled the miller.
"Do let me try, Uncle Jabez," said Ruth again, when the lame girl broke
in with:
"You are an awfully obstinate old Dusty Miller! Why don't you own up
that Ruthie's more good to you than a dozen boys would be?"
"She ain't!" snarled the old man.
At that moment there appeared upon the farmhouse porch a little, bent
old woman who hailed them in a shrill, sweet voice:
"What's the matter, gals? What's the matter, Jabez? Ain't nothin' broke
down, hez there?"
"No, Aunt Alvirah," laughed Ruth. "I just want Uncle Jabez to let me
help him----"
The old woman had started down the steps, her hand upon her back as she
came, and intoning in a low voice: "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!" She
caught up the miller's remark, as he turned away again, very sharply,
for he muttered something about "Silly gals' foolish idees."
"What d'ye mean by that, Jabez Potter?" she demanded. "If Ruth says she
kin help ye, she _kin_. You oughter know that by this time."
"Help me row that punt across the river?" snarled the old man,
wrathfully. "What nonsense!"
"I dunno," said the old woman, slowly. "I see Tim's flag a-flyin'. I
guess he wants his flour bad."
"And I can pull an oar as good as _you_ can, Uncle Jabez," added Ruth.
"Oh, all right! Come on, then. I see I shell hev no peace till I let ye
try it. Ef we don't git back fer supper, don't blame _me_, Alviry."
The miller disappeared in the gathering gloom of the mill. Soon the
jarring of the structure and the hum of the stones grew
slower--slower--slower, and finally the machinery was altogether still.
Ruth had run for her hat. Then, waving her hand to Mercy and Aunt
Alvirah, she ran around to the landing.
The Lumano River was a wide stream, but at this season of the year it
was pretty shallow. There was little navigation from Lake Osago at any
time, but now the channel was dotted with dangerous rocks, and there
were even more perilous reefs just under the surface.
Uncle Jabez's boat was not really a "punt." It was a heavy rowboat, so
stained and waterlogged in appearance that it might have been taken for
a bit of drift-stuff that had been brought in to the Red Mill landing by
the current.
And truly, that is probably the means by which the miller had originally
obtained the boat. He was of a miserly nature, was Uncle Jabez Potter,
and the old boat--which its first owner had never considered worth
coming after, following some spring freshet--served the miller well
enough to transport his goods across the river.
Tim Lakeby's store, on the north shore of the river, was in sight of the
Red Mill. There were four sacks of flour to be transported, and already
Uncle Jabez had placed two of them in the bottom of the boat, upon a
clean tarpaulin.
"Ef we go down the river an' swamp, I shell lose this flour," grumbled
Uncle Jabez. "Drat that Ben! I tell ye, he'd ought to be hum by now."
Ben was the hired man, and if the miller had not really been kindlier
underneath than he appeared on the surface, Ben would never have
remained as long with him as he had!
Uncle Jabez balanced the weight in the boat with judgment. Although
there seemed to be no real danger, he knew very well the nature of the
treacherous current. Ruth slipped into the bow seat with her oar, and
Uncle Jabez took stroke.
The girl unknotted the painter, and the boat drifted out from the
landing.
"Now, set yer feet square, an' _pull_!" ejaculated her uncle, thrusting
the blade of his own oar beneath the rippling surface.
They were heavy ash oars--one was all the girl really could manage. But
she was not afraid of a little hard work, her muscles were supple, and
she had rowed one season in the first eight at Briarwood Hall, and so
considered herself something of an oarswoman.
The miller, by stretching to see over his shoulder, got the boat pointed
in the right direction. "Pull, now!" he commanded, and set a long,
forceful stroke for the girl to match. With the water slapping against
the high side of the craft, sometimes sprinkling them with spray, they
drove her forward for some minutes in silence.
The boat lumbered heavily, and it was true that Ruth had all she could
do to manage the oars. In some places, where the eddies tugged at the
blade, it seemed as though a submerged giant seized it and tried to
twist it from her grasp!
"I guess you air gittin' yer fill-up of it, Niece Ruth," growled the
miller, with a sound in his throat that might have been a chuckle. "Look
out, now! ye'll hev us over."
Ruth knew very well she had done nothing to give the boat that sudden
jerk. It was the current; but she had no breath with which to argue the
matter.
On and on they pulled, while the sinking sun gilded the little wavelets,
and bathed both river and the shores in golden glory. A homing bird
shrieked a shrill "good-night," as it passed above them, flying from
shore to shore.
Now the northern shore was nearer than the landing they had left. Only
occasionally Ruth turned her head, for she needed her full attention
upon the oar which she managed with such difficulty.
"We gotter p'int up-stream," growled Uncle Jabez, after wringing his
neck around again to spy out the landing near Lakeby's store. "Pesky
current's kerried us too fur down."
He gave a mighty pull to his own oar to rehead the boat. It was a
perilous move, and in a perilous place. Here the water ran, troubled and
white-capped, over a hidden reef.
"Oh! do be careful, Uncle!" cried Ruth.
"Pull!" yelled the old man, in return.
By chance he sunk his own oar-blade so deeply, that it rubbed against
the reef. It lifted Uncle Jabez from his seat, and unbalanced the boat.
Like a flash the heavy oar flew out of its socket, and the old man
sprawled on his back in the bottom of the boat. The latter whirled
around in the current, and before Ruth could scream, even, it crashed
broadside upon the rock!
The rotting planks of the boat could not stand such a blow. Ruth saw the
plank cave in, and the water followed. Down the boat settled upon the
submerged part of the rock--a hopeless wreck!
This was not the worst of the accident. In seeking to recover his seat,
Uncle Jabez went overboard, as the old boat tipped. He dove into the
shallow water, and struck his head heavily on the reef.
Blood-stained bubbles rose to the surface, and the old man struggled
only feebly to rise.
"He is hurt! he will be drowned!" gasped Ruth, and seeing him so
helpless, she sprang nimbly over the canted side of the boat and sought
to draw her uncle's head out of the water.
Although she was a good swimmer, and was not afraid of the water, the
current was so swift, and her own footing so unstable, it was doubtful
if Ruth Fielding could save both the miller and herself from the peril
that menaced them.