THE AUTO TOUR
"Hi, Ruth!"
"Hey, Ruth!"
"Straw, Ruth!--why don't you say?" cried the owner of the name, running
to the porch and smiling out upon the Cameron twins, who had stopped
their automobile at the Red Mill gate on a morning soon following that
day on which Uncle Jabez and Ruth had undergone their involuntary
ducking in the Lumano.
"Aren't you ready, Ruthie?" cried Helen from the back seat of the car.
"Do hurry up, Ruth--the horses don't want to stand," laughed Tom, who
was slim and black haired and black eyed, like his twin. Indeed, the two
were so much alike that, dressed in each other's clothing, it is
doubtful if they could have been suspected in such disguise.
"But my bag isn't packed yet," cried Ruth. "I didn't know you'd be here
so soon."
"Take your toothbrush and powder puff--that's all you girls really
need," declared the irrepressible Tom.
"I like that! And on a two days' trip into the hills," said his sister,
beating him soundly with an energetic fist.
"Give him one or two good ones for me, Helen," said Ruth, and ran in to
finish her preparations for the journey she was to take with her
friends.
"Pshaw!" grumbled the impatient Tom, "going to Uncle Ike's isn't like
going to a fancy hotel. And we'll stop over to-night with Fred Larkin's
folks--the girls there would lend you and Ruth all you need."
"Hold on!" exclaimed his sister. "Just what have you in _your_ bag? I
know it's heavy. You have all you want----"
"Sure. Pair of socks, two collars, fishing tackle, some books I borrowed
of Fred last year, my bicycle wrench--you never know when you are going
to need it,--a string of wampum I promised to take to Nealy
Larkin--she's a Campfire girl, you know--and an Indian tomahawk for
Fred----"
"But, clothes! clothes!" gasped Helen. "Where are your shirts?"
"Oh, I'll borrow a shirt, if I need one," declared Master Tom, grinning.
"Uncle Ike's Benjy is about my size, you know. What's the use of carting
around so much stuff?"
"I notice you have your bag full of trash," sniffed Helen. "It can
plainly be seen that Mrs. Murchiston was called away so suddenly that
she could not oversee our packing."
"Come on, Ruth!" shouted Tom again, turning toward the farmhouse.
"Now, don't get her in a flurry," admonished Helen. "She hasn't had but
two hours' notice to get ready for this two days' trip. It's a wonder
Uncle Jabez would let her go with us at all."
"Oh, Uncle Jabe isn't such a bad old fellow after all," said Tom.
"He's been just as cross and cranky as he can be, ever since he lost his
boat in the river the other evening--you know that. And they say he
would have been drowned, too, if it hadn't been for Ruthie. What a brave
girl she is, Tom!"
"Bravest in seven states!" acknowledged Master Tom, promptly. He had
always thought there was nobody just like Ruth, and his sister smiled
upon him approvingly.
"I guess she is!" she agreed. "There isn't a girl at Briarwood Hall that
will be her match in anything--now that Madge Steele has gotten through.
Ruth is going to be head of the senior class before we graduate--you
see."
"She'll have to hustle some to beat little Mercy Curtis," grinned Tom.
"_There's_ a sharp suffragette for you!"
Helen laughed. "That's right. But, unfortunately for Mercy, Mrs.
Tellingham considers other work beside our books in grading us. Oh,
Tommy! we're going to have a dandy time this coming year at school."
"You have my best wishes," returned her brother, with a slightly clouded
face. "Bobbins and Busy Izzy and I expect to be drilled like everything,
when we get back to Seven Oaks. Professor Darly is a terror."
Ruth came out with her bag then, and in the doorway behind her appeared
the little, stooped figure of Aunt Alvirah. The Camerons waved their
hands and shouted greetings to her.
"Take good keer of my pretty, Master Tom," shrilled the old lady,
hobbling out into the yard. "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"
"We'll handle her as if she were made of glass," declared Tom, laughing.
"Hop in, Ruthie!"
"Good-bye, Aunt Alvirah!" cried the girl of the Red Mill, clasping the
little old lady around the neck and kissing her. Then she waved her hand
to Uncle Jabez, who appeared in the mill doorway, and he nodded grimly,
as the car started.
Ben appeared at a window and bashfully nodded to the departing pleasure
party. The car quickly passed the end of the Cheslow road and sped up
the riverside. These lowlands beyond the Red Mill had once been covered
by a great flood, and the three friends would never forget their race
with the freshet from Culm Falls, at the time the Minturn Dam burst.
"But we're bound far, far above the dam this time," said Tom. "Fred
Larkin lives farther than that--beyond the gorge between the hills, and
at the foot of the first pond. We'll get there long before dark unless
something happens to this old mill I'm driving."
"There! Tommy's harping on his pet trouble," laughed Helen. "Father
won't let us use the new car to go scooting about the country alone in,
and Tommy thinks he is abused."
"Well! that 'six' is just eating its head off in the garage," grumbled
the boy.
"Just as though it were a horse!" chuckled Ruth.
"You wait! I bet something happens on this trip, because of this old
heap of scrap iron that pa calls a car."
"Goodness me!" exclaimed Helen, with some exasperation. "Don't you dare
have a breakdown in the hills, Tom! I should be frightened. It's so wild
up there beyond Loon Lake."
"You needn't blame me," returned her twin. "I shall do my best."
"And so will the auto--I have no doubt," added Ruth, laughingly. "Cheer
up, Helen, dear----"
"I know the rest of it!" interrupted her chum. "'The worst is yet to
come!' I--hope--not!"
Ruth Fielding would allow no worrying or criticism in this event. They
were out for a good time, and she at once proceeded to cheer up the
twins, and laugh at their fears, and interest them in other things.
They crossed the river at Culm Falls--a beautiful spot--and it was
beyond the bridge, as the car was mounting the first long rise, that the
party of adventurers found their first incident of moment.
Here and there were clearings in the forest upon the right side of the
road (on the other side the hill fell abruptly to the river), and little
farms. As the party came in sight of one of these farms, a great cry
arose from the dooryard. The poultry was soundly disturbed--squawking,
cackling, shrieking their protests noisily--while the deep baying of a
dog rose savagely above the general turmoil.
"Something doing there!" quoth Tom Cameron, slowing down.
"A chicken hawk, perhaps?" suggested Ruth.
A woman was screaming admonition or advice; occasionally the gruffer
voice of a man added to the turmoil. But the dog's barking was the
loudest sound.
Suddenly, from around the corner of the barn, appeared a figure wildly
running. It was neither the farmer, nor his wife--that was sure.
"Tramp!" exclaimed Tom, reaching for the starting lever again.
At that moment Helen shrieked. After the running man appeared a hound.
He had broken his leash, and a more savage brute it would be difficult
to imagine. He was following the runner with great leaps, and when the
fugitive vaulted the roadside fence, the dog crashed through the rails,
tearing down a length of them, and scrambling in the dusty road in an
endeavor to get on the trail of the man again.
Only, it was not a man; it was a boy! He was big and strong looking, but
his face was boyish. Ruth Fielding stood up suddenly in the car and
shrieked to him:
"Come here! This way! Roberto!"
"My goodness! is he a friend of yours, Ruthie?" gasped Tom Cameron.
"He's the Gypsy boy that saved Uncle Jabez," returned Ruth, in a breath.
"Take him aboard--_do_!" urged Helen. "That awful dog----"
Roberto had heard and leaped for the running-board of the car. Tom
switched on the power. Just as the huge hound leaped, and his fore-paws
touched the step, the car darted away and the brute was left sprawling.
The car was a left-hand drive, and Tom motioned the panting youth to get
in beside him. The dark-faced fellow did so. At first he was too
breathless to speak, but his black eyes snapped like beads, and his lips
smiled. He seemed to have enjoyed the race with the savage dog, instead
of having been frightened by it.
"You save me, Missy, like I save your old man--eh?" he panted, at last,
turning his brilliant smile upon Ruth. "Me! that dog mos' have me, eh?"
"What was the matter? How came you to start all that riot?" demanded
Tom, looking at the Gypsy youth askance.
Roberto's grin became expansive. The little gold rings in his ears
twinkled as well as his eyes.
"I did them no wrong. I slept in the man's haymow. He found me a little
while ago. He say I haf to _pay_ for my sleep--eh? How poor Gypsy pay?"
and he opened his hands and shrugged his shoulders to show that his
pockets were empty.
"Me, no money have got. Can I work? Of course I work--only the farmers
do not trust me. They call all Gypsies thieves. Isn't it so, Missy?" and
he flashed a glance at Ruth.
"I know, Mr. Joe Bascom drove you out of his orchard," agreed the girl
of the Red Mill. "But you should have come across the river to _us_.
Uncle Jabez is really grateful to you."
"Oh, _that_?" and the boy shrugged his shoulders again. "I do not want
pay for what I do--no. I want no money. I would not work a day for all
my grandmother's wealth--and she is a miser," and Roberto laughed again,
showing all his white, strong teeth.
"But these people back here--this man and his woman--they want me to
churn. It is a dog's work--no? I see where the dog haf to churn, but
that dog die and they get this new, savage one--and it will not. Me, I
think this dog very wise!" and Roberto's merriment broke out again, and
he shook with it.
"So I tell them I will not do dog's work, and then he, the man, chases
me with his pitchfork, and the woman unloose the dog. Oh, yes! I make a
great noise in the henyard. That dog chase me hard. So--I got away as
you see," he concluded.
"Say! you're a cool one," declared Tom, with growing admiration.
"But you ought not to be loafing about, sleeping anywhere, and without
employment," said Helen, primly.
Roberto's black eyes sparkled. "Why does the little missy say I should
work?" he demanded. "There is no need. I return to my people, perhaps.
There I curry horses and fill the water pails for the women, and go with
my uncle to the horse-fairs where he trades, or be under my
grandmother's beck and call--the grandmother whom I tell you is a miser.
But I never have money with them, and why should I work for it
elsewhere?"
"To get good clothes, and good food, and pay your way everywhere,"
suggested Tom.
Roberto laughed again. He spread out his strong hands. "These keep me
from day to day," he said. "But money burns a hole in my pocket. Or,
would you have me like my grandmother? She hoards every penny-piece, and
then gloats over her money-box, by the firelight, when the rest of the
camp is asleep. Oh, I see her!"