RUTH DELIVERS HER ULTIMATUM
“Do you think you can go to Tower and return here before sunset, Blue
Wolf?” There was a dubious inflection in Miss Drexal’s voice, as she
addressed her question to the guide.
“Go alone, go fast,” assured the Indian. “Come back plenty time ’fore
him sundown. You walk around island, any place. No ’fraid. You get lost,
me find. Me know him. Now go quick an’ come back.” Suiting the action to
the word, he made a lithe spring into his canoe and prepared to push off
from shore.
“We’ll all be here when you come for us,” predicted Ruth gaily. “Such
good foresters as we can be trusted to find our way anywhere.”
Blue Wolf met this sally with an approving “Ugh!” Then the canoe shot
through the placid water, alive under his practiced hands.
“We might as well eat luncheon and have it over with,” said Miss Drexal,
as the watchers on the bank lost sight of the guide around a bend.
“Shall we eat it here, or have it in the woods?”
“This seems to be a good enough place,” commented Marian. “We can gather
enough dry wood right around here for a fire to make the coffee. As long
as we haven’t brought much except sandwiches, sweet crackers and fruit,
it won’t take long to get it ready. Only one thing is needed—water.”
“There’s a little spring just back in the woods,” informed Emmy. “Blue
Wolf told us about it, didn’t he, Betty? He landed us here so we’d be
near it.”
“Let’s all go and look for it,” proposed Sarah. “I’m terribly thirsty.”
“Now that you mention it, Sarey, so am I,” beamed Frances. “Lead us to
it, Emmy, provided you know how. I’m going to leave my pack here, and
take only my drinking cup.”
Frances’ announcement caused a general shedding of packs. Each forester
being provided with the individual collapsible drinking cup, Emmy and
Betty headed the procession to the spring, Miss Drexal alone electing to
remain behind. Ruth brought up the rear with a good-sized white enamel
pitcher, which was to hold the water necessary to the coffee-making.
Less than a hundred yards straight into the woods from the point where
they had landed, they came upon the spring. Even that short distance
proved not especially easy going. From the shore of the lake the ground
was rough and rocky, and sloped gradually upward. There was also plenty
of dry underbrush, which crackled and snapped under their invading feet
as they went. The object of their search proved to be a mere trickle of
clear water, flowing from between rocks into a tiny natural hollow in
the earth.
Due to its aggravatingly-slow flow, it took some minutes to obtain
sufficient water to quench the thirst of the explorers, who impatiently
waited for each other’s cups to be filled.
“It will take all day to fill that pitcher,” observed Jane as Ruth held
it under the tiny crystal thread of water.
“Then go ahead and don’t wait for me. While I’m filling it, you can get
the firewood together and help Miss Drexal. I’ll stay here by my
lonesome and commune with Nature,” laughed Ruth. “There’s no danger of
my getting lost as long as I am within hearing of you noisy persons.”
“I was going to offer to stay and console you, but not after that cruel
cut,” asserted Frances. “I’d rather go with the crowd and be a ‘Wood
Gatherer.’ I’ll console Plain Jane instead. What shall I say to thee,
heart of my heart?” she inquired, peering languishingly at her usual
victim. “Dost wish to argue, Janie?”
“No, I don’t, you ridiculous goose,” retorted Jane.
“This pitcher will be full before you even make a start,” teased Ruth.
“Come on, she wants to get rid of us,” accused Sarah.
“How did you guess it?” dimpled Ruth. “Run along, children. I’ll be
right at your heels.”
With a parting shot from Jane, “Our room is better than our company,”
the girls left Ruth to herself. Though Blanche had accompanied them, she
had not once opened her lips. Stolidly mute, she had filled her cup,
drunk a little water and pettishly thrown the remainder of it into the
bushes. As she turned to leave the spring, she purposely dropped behind
the others, followed them a few steps, then swung about and went back to
Ruth.
Her eyes fixed on the nearly full pitcher, Ruth almost let it fall from
her hands when a tense voice assailed her surprised ears: “You talked
about me to Jane Pellew when we got out of the canoes! I saw you with
your heads together. Then she looked right at me. What did you tell her?
If you’ve said a word to her about—”
“I won’t answer your question.” The limit of Ruth’s endurance had been
reached. “It’s not worthy of an answer.”
“Then I shall make Jane tell me what you said to her.”
A faintly scornful smile touched Ruth’s firm lips. Very deliberately she
said: “You’re bent on quarreling with me, Blanche. I can see that. But
as _I_ don’t intend to quarrel with _you_, I think the less we have to
say to each other the better it will be for us both. That’s all.”
Whirling, she set off through the woods, with as much speed as the
carrying of the pitcher would permit. She could hear Blanche crashing
along behind her, and, determined to escape further talk with her, Ruth
quickened her steps. Having delivered her ultimatum, she would now stick
to it. Torch Bearer or not, she would not tamely submit to being accused
of having broken her word. Hurt pride whispered against it. She was glad
she had spoken so plainly. She would not let herself feel sorry
afterward, either. If, later, the others noticed the estrangement, she
would not deny it. Blanche had forced it upon her. Hereafter, she could
look out for herself. Ruth knew in her own heart that she could honestly
hold herself blameless.
Blanche, however, was overcome with dismay as she stumbled her way back
to the lake. Always fearful that Ruth might some day break her word, she
this time knew she had been too ready to take her to task. Unconsciously
judging Ruth’s standards of honor by her own, she reflected that Ruth
would probably now break her promise, purely for spite.
Returned to the group of busy workers, her gaze wandered from one to
another until it rested on Ruth. The latter’s calm face betrayed no hint
of displeasure. She was talking gaily to Emmy and Marian as she poured a
stream of water from the pitcher into the big coffee-pot.
“Here’s Blanche!” called out Sarah. “We didn’t miss you till we got back
here. Ruth said you were coming along just behind her. Did you put those
two boxes of cakes in your pack? We can’t find them.”
“Yes.” Picking up her pack from where she had deposited it on the
ground, Blanche fumbled in it. “Here they are,” she said shortly.
Without offering to assist in the preparations, she wandered aimlessly
along the shore away from the party, brooding darkly upon her fancied
wrong. So the girls had not even missed her. It simply went to show how
wrapped up in themselves they were.
It would serve them right if she were to slip quietly into the woods and
let them wonder what had become of her. She took an undecided step as
though about to put the thought into execution, then halted. She was
hungry and wanted her luncheon. She would wait until afterward. Once the
party were well started on their trip through the woods, she would drop
out and return to the lake shore. If they spent most of the afternoon
hunting her, she did not care. She hoped her disappearance would give
them all a good scare. Ten to one they wouldn’t miss her.
Somewhat cheered by this malicious plan of revenge, Blanche strolled
back to her companions, who were now putting the last touches to the
spread.
“Come and get it,” caroled Frances, wildly waving her arms. “That’s the
way an old man, who cooks for the sheep-men on our ranch, calls the boys
to their meals,” she laughingly explained to Miss Drexal. “Next summer I
hope you and the Equitable Eight will visit me. There are oceans of good
times to be had on a ranch.”
“I am sure of it,” concurred the Guardian heartily. “It will be well
worth looking forward to.”
“Please remember you’re not the only person who lives on a ranch,”
reminded Sarah, who had been listening. “I’ve just decided to hold the
reunion at our ranch.”
This announcement heralded a playfully spirited discussion between the
rival would-be hostesses. It continued energetically as the picnickers
seated themselves about the spread, and ended with Frances challenging
Sarah to a duel, with canoe-paddles as weapons, to decide the momentous
question.
Under cover of the general air of hilarity that pervaded the _al fresco_
meal, not one noticed that the wires of communication were down between
Ruth and Blanche. Thus far, Ruth was still unrelenting. If Blanche had
addressed a remark to her, it is doubtful if she would have replied to
it. Blanche knew better than to chance it. The very manner in which Ruth
ignored her, warned her not to try it.
Luncheon eaten, a hasty clearing-up ensued. The foresters were impatient
to start on their jaunt. With over half the day already sped, they had
no time to waste. It was their ambition to travel straight across the
island and back again.
“It is now ten minutes past one,” announced Miss Drexal. “We must be
back here not later than half-past five. At three o’clock we must
about-face, wherever we may happen to be. I am not sure that we shall be
able to cross the island by three o’clock. It will depend largely on the
going, also upon how much we play along the way. ‘Keep together’ must be
our watchword. There must be no strays in this flock. Marian, will you
take the lead with me and help me blaze the trail?”
“I’d love to.” Marian’s mild brown eyes sparkled as she stepped to the
Guardian’s side. The others fell in behind the pair, and the valorous
expedition sallied forth in high feather on what was destined to prove a
momentous wayfaring.