ANOTHER NIGHT ADVENTURE
Ruth was startled, to say the least, by the discovery that Nita was
absent. And how softly the runaway girl must have crept out of bed and
out of the room for Ruth--who had been awake--not to hear her!
"She certainly is a sly little thing!" gasped Ruth.
But as she turned back to see what had become of the figure running
beside the path, the lantern light was flashed into her eyes. Again the
beam was shot through the window and danced for a moment on the wall
and ceiling.
"It is a signal!" thought Ruth. "There's somebody outside besides
Nita--somebody who wishes to communicate with her."
Even as she realized this she saw the lantern flash from the dock. That
was where it had been all the time. It was a dark-lantern, and its ray
had been intentionally shot into the window of their room.
The figure she had seen steal away from the bungalow had now disappeared.
If it was Nita--as Ruth believed--the strange girl might be hiding in
the shadow of the boathouse.
However, the girl from the Red Mill did not stand idly at the window
for long. It came to her that somebody ought to know what was going on.
Her first thought was that Nita was bent on running away from her new
friends--although, as as far as any restraint was put upon her, she might
have walked away at any time.
"But she ought not to go off like this," thought Ruth, hurrying into
her own garments. By the faint light that came from outside she could
see to dress; and she saw, too, that Nita's clothing had disappeared.
"Why, the girl must have dressed," thought Ruth, in wonder. "How could
she have done it with me lying here awake?"
Meanwhile, her own fingers were busy and in two minutes from the time she
had turned from the window, she opened the hall door again and tiptoed
out.
The house was perfectly still, save for the ticking of the big clock.
She sped down the stairway, and as she passed the glimmering face of the
time-keeper she glanced at it and saw that the minute hand was just eight
minutes past the hour.
In a closet under the stairs were the girls' outside garments, and
hats. She found somebody's tam-o'-shanter and her own sweater-coat,
and slipped both on in a hurry. When she opened the door the chill,
salt air, with not a little fog in it, breathed into the close hall.
She stepped out, pulled the door to and latched it, and crossed the
porch. The harbor seemed deserted. Two or three night lights sparkled
over on the village side. What vessels rode at anchor showed no lights at
their moorings. But the great, steady, yellow light of the beacon on
the point shone steadily--a wonderfully comforting sight, Ruth thought,
at this hour of the night.
There were no more flashes of lantern light from the dock. Nor did she
hear a sound from that direction as she passed out through the trimly
cut privet hedge and took the shell walk to the boathouse. She was in
canvas shoes and her step made no sound. In a moment or two she was in
the shadow again.
Then she heard voices--soft, but earnest tones--and knew that two people
were talking out there toward the end of the dock. One was a deep voice;
the other might be Nita's--at least, it was a feminine voice.
"Who under the sun can she have come here to meet?" wondered Ruth,
anxiously. "Not one of the boys. This can't be merely a lark of some
kind----"
Something scraped and squeaked--a sound that shattered the silence of the
late evening completely. A dog instantly barked back of the the bungalow,
in the kennels. Other dogs on the far shore of the cove replied. A
sleep-walking rooster began to crow clamorously, believing that it was
already growing day.
The creaking stopped in a minute, and Ruth heard a faint splash. The
voices had ceased.
"What can it mean?" thought the anxious girl. She could remain idle
there behind the boathouse no longer. She crept forth upon the dock to
reconnoiter. There seemed to be nobody there.
And then, suddenly, she saw that the catboat belonging to Mr. Stone's
little fleet--the "_Jennie S._" it was called, named for Heavy
herself--was some distance from her moorings.
The breeze was very light; but the sail was raised and had filled, and
the catboat was drifting quite rapidly out beyond the end of the dock.
It was so dark in the cockpit that Ruth could not distinguish whether
there were one or two figures aboard, or who they were; but she realized
that somebody was off on a midnight cruise.
"And without saying a word about it!" gasped Ruth. "Could it be, after
all, one of the boys and Nita? Are they doing this just for the fun of
it?"
Yet the heavy voice she had heard did not sound like that of either of
the three boys at the bungalow. Not even Bob Steele, when his unfortunate
voice was pitched in its very lowest key, could rumble like this voice.
The girl of the Red Mill was both troubled and frightened. Suppose
Nita and her companion should be wrecked in the catboat? She did not
believe that the runaway girl knew anything about working a sailboat.
And who was her companion on this midnight escapade? Was he one of the
longshoremen?
Suddenly she thought of Jack Crab. But Crab was supposed to be at the
lighthouse at this hour; wasn't he? She could not remember what she had
heard about the lighthouse keeper's assistant.
Nor could Ruth decide at once whether to go back to the house and give
the alarm, or not. Had she known where Phineas, the boatkeeper, lodged,
she would certainly have tried to awaken him. He ought to be told that
one of the boats was being used--and, of course, without permission.
The sail of the catboat drifted out of sight while she stood there
undecided. She could not pursue the _Jennie S._ Had she known where
Phineas was, they might have gone after the catboat in the _Miraflame;_
but otherwise Ruth saw no possibility of tracking the two people who
had borrowed the _Jennie S._
Nor was she sure that it was desirable to go in, awaken the household,
and report the disappearance of Nita. The cruise by night might be a very
innocent affair.
"And then again," murmured Ruth, "there may be something in it deeper
than I can see. We do not really know who this Nita is. That piece in
the paper may not refer to her at all. Suppose, instead of having run
away from a rich uncle and a big cattle ranch, Nita comes from bad
people? Mrs. Kirby and the captain knew nothing about her. It may be
that some of Nita's bad friends have followed her here, and they may
mean to rob the Stones!
"Goodness! that's a very bad thought," muttered Ruth, shaking her
head. "I ought not to suspect the girl of anything like that. Although
she is so secret, and so rough of speech, she doesn't seem to be a girl
who has lived with really bad people."
Ruth could not satisfy herself that it would be either right or wise to
go in and awaken Miss Kate, or even the butler. But she could not bring
herself to the point of going to bed, either, while Nita was out on the
water.
She couldn't think of sleep, anyway. Not until the catboat came back
to the dock did she move out of the shadow of the boathouse. And it was
long past one o'clock when this occurred. The breeze had freshened, and
the _Jennie S._ had to tack several times before the boatman made the
moorings.
The starlight gave such slight illumination that Ruth could not see who
was in the boat. The sail was dropped, the boat moored, and then, after
a bit, she heard a heavy step upon the dock. Only one person came toward
her.
Ruth peered anxiously out of the shadow. A man slouched along the dock
and reached the shell road. He turned east, moving away toward the
lighthouse. It was Jack Crab.
"And Nita is not with him!" gasped Ruth. "What has he done with her?
Where has he taken her in the boat? What does it mean?"
She dared not run after Crab and ask him. She was really afraid of the
man. His secret communication with Nita was no matter to be blurted
out to everybody, she was sure. Nita had gone to meet him of her own
free will. She was not obliged to sail away with Crab in the catboat.
Naturally, the supposition was that she had decided to remain away from
the bungalow of her own intention, too.
"It is not my secret," thought Ruth. "She was merely a visitor here.
Miss Kate, even, had no command over her actions. She is not responsible
for Nita--none of us is responsible.
"I only hope she won't get into any trouble through that horrid Jack
Crab. And it seems so ungrateful for Nita to walk out of the house
without saying a word to Heavy and Miss Kate.
"I'd best keep my own mouth shut, however, and let things take their
course. Nita wanted to go away, or she would not have done so. She seemed
to have no fear of Jack Crab; otherwise she would not have met him at
night and gone away with him.
"Ruth Fielding! you mind your own business," argued the girl of the
Red Mill, finally going back toward the silent house. "At least, wait
until we see what comes of this before you tell everything you know."
And so deciding, she crept into the house, locked the door again, got
into her room without disturbing any of the other girls, and so to bed
and finally to sleep, being little the wiser for her midnight escapade.