CHRISTMAS MORNING
"How under the sun did you get here, Ruth?" Helen shouted the moment she
saw her chum.
"Did that Jerry Sheming bring you?" demanded Ann.
The other members of the party were quite as anxious to learn the
particulars of her adventure, and when they had crossed on the stepping
stones, they gathered about her eagerly.
Ruth would tell just so much and no more. She explained how she had fallen
into the snow-drift at the foot of the cliff, how Jerry had heard her
scream and pulled her out. But beyond that she only said he had left her
here to wait their coming.
"You needn't be so mysterious, Miss!" ejaculated Helen, rather piqued.
"I guess she doesn't want to say anything about his hide-out that might
lead to his being hunted out by Lem Daggett," observed the wise Tom. "But
Jerry signed his name to the note he tied on the arrow."
"And we sure were surprised when we saw that arrow shoot up from the
depths," said Isadore.
"What do you suppose mother will say?" cried one of the Tingley boys.
"Don't let's tell her," suggested Ruth, quickly. "There's no need. It will
only add to her worries and she will be troubled enough by us as it is."
"But----"
"You see, I'm not a bit hurt," insisted Ruth. "And the less we talk about
the matter the less likely we shall be to drop something that may lead to
the discovery of Jerry Sheming's hiding place."
"Oh, well, if you put it that way," agreed Ralph. "I suppose mother will
have all the trouble she wants. And maybe if she knew, she'd keep you
girls away from this end of the island."
They tramped home to a late luncheon. It was so very cold that afternoon
and evening that they were only too glad to remain in the house and "hug
the fire."
The inclement weather drove Lem Daggett and the men indoors, too. The
constable had to go back to Logwood without his prisoner, and he evidently
feared the anger of Rufus Blent.
"I want to warn ye, Mis' Tingley," he said to the lady of the lodge,
shaking his head, "that when Blent sets out ter do a thing, he does it.
That boy's got to be found, and he's got to be kep' off this island."
"I will see what my husband says when he comes," replied Mrs. Tingley,
firmly. "I will not allow our men to chase the poor fellow further."
"You'd better ketch him and signal us at Logwood. Run up that flag on the
pole outside. I'll know what you mean."
"Mr. Tingley will decide when he comes," was all the satisfaction the lady
gave the constable.
After he had gone, Mrs. Tingley told Ruth she hoped no harm would come to
the poor boy, "sleeping out in the cold alone."
"Oh, Mrs. Tingley! I know he has a warm, dry place to sleep, and plenty of
firewood--heaps and heaps of it."
"You seem to know a good deal about him," the lady commented.
"Yes, I do," admitted Ruth, honestly. "More about him and where he is
hiding than he would care to have me tell you."
So Mrs. Tingley did not catechise the girl further upon the subject of the
fugitive.
Just because they were shut in was no reason why the house party on Cliff
Island should not have an extraordinarily good time. They played games and
had charades that evening. They had a candy pull, too, but unlike that
famous one at Snow Camp the winter before, Busy Izzy Phelps did not get a
chance to put the walnut shells into the taffy instead of the kernels.
The wind died down and it grew desperately cold during the night. The
mercury soon left the zero point so far above that it threatened to be
lost for the rest of the winter.
They awoke the next morning to find the island chained fast to the
mainland by old Jack Frost's fetters. A sheet of new ice extended for some
hundreds of yards all around Cliff Island. Farther out the ice was of
rougher texture, but that near at hand was clear and black.
Out came the skates soon after breakfast, and everybody but Mercy went
down to the lake. Later the boys made the lame girl and Mrs. Tingley come,
too, and they arranged chairs in which the two non-skaters could be pushed
over the smooth surface.
Hockey was the game for the afternoon, and two "sides" were chosen to
oppose each other, one of the boys and another of the girls. Although Ann
Hicks had never had a hockey stick in her hand before, she quickly got
into the game, and they all had a very merry time.
The day before Ruth had not been able to find the implement that Jerry
Sheming had spoken about, nor could she find a mattock, or pickax, on this
second day. If she went to the toolshed and hunted for the thing herself
she was afraid her quest would be observed by some of the men.
She located the place where the tools were kept, but the shed was locked.
However, there was a window, and that window could be easily slid back.
Ruth shrank from attempting to creep in by it.
"Just the same, I told him I'd get it--at least, I told myself I'd get it
for him," thought the girl of the Red Mill. "And I will."
Of course, Mrs. Tingley would have allowed her to borrow the tool, but it
would have aroused comment had it become known that Jerry wanted it.
"It must be that he really thinks now he knows where his uncle hid the
treasure box. He wants to dig for it," was Ruth's thought.
Yet she remembered that Jerry had said all along the old man had seemingly
gone mad because his treasure box was buried under a landslide. She asked
Mr. Preston, the foreman of the camp, where the landslide had occurred.
"Why, right over yonder, little lady," explained the woodsman. "If the
snow wasn't on the ground, you could easy see the scar of it down that
hillside," and he pointed to a spot just beyond the secret opening of
Jerry's cave.
"The dirt and rock was heaped up so at the foot of the slide that the
course of the brook was changed. That slide covered a monster lot of
little caves in the rock," pursued the man. "But I expect there's others
of 'em left and that Jerry's hidin' out in one now," he added, looking at
Ruth with shrewd gaze.
Ruth took him no further into her confidence. She felt that she must have
somebody to help her, however, and naturally enough she chose Tom. Helen's
twin thought a great deal of Ruth Fielding, and was never ashamed of
showing this feeling before the other boys. On her side, Ruth felt that
Tom Cameron was just about right.
Nor was she mistaken in him when she placed her difficulty before the lad.
Help her? Of course he would! They agreed to make the raid upon the
toolshed that evening when the others were busily filling stockings and
trimming the huge Christmas tree set up in the main hall of the hunting
lodge.
Ruth beckoned to her fellow-conspirator and Tom slipped out of the hall by
one door while she made the outer air by another. The kitchen girls and
the men hired about the camp were all in the big hall watching the fun, or
aiding in decorating the lodge. Nobody saw Ruth and Tom.
It was a very cold evening. There was a hazy moon and brilliant stars, but
they did not think anybody would see their efforts to aid Jerry Sheming.
Nevertheless, Ruth and Tom were very circumspect. They crept behind the
toolshed and looked all about to make sure that nobody was watching. There
was no light in the bunkhouse or in the cook's cabin.
Although the toolshed was so carefully locked, Ruth knew that the window
could be opened. Tom quickly slipped back the sash, and then dived into
the dark interior of the place, head first.
The moment he was on his feet, however, he drew from his pocket the
electric spotlight he had supplied himself with, and flashed the ray about
the shed.
"Good! here's either one you want--pickax or mattock," were the words he
whispered to Ruth.
"Which do you suppose he would like best?"
"A mattock is more practical, I believe," said Tom. "'Maddox,' they call
it. We had a fellow working for us once who called it a 'mad-ax.' It has a
broad blade and can be used to chop as well as dig."
"Never mind giving a lecture on it," laughed Ruth, very softly, "hand it
out."
Tom chuckled and did as he was bid. In a minute he was with her and picked
up the heavy implement.
"I hope they don't come hunting for us," said the girl of the Red Mill,
breathlessly.
"We must take that risk. Come on, Ruth. Or do you want me to take it down
to the brookside alone?"
"I want to go along, too. Oh, dear! I do hope he will find it."
"I have another cracker box full of food for him," said Tom. "I reckon he
will be on the lookout for the pick, so he'll find the food, too."
After a good deal of climbing, they reached the flat rock by the brookside
where Jerry Sheming had requested Ruth to leave the mattock. There was no
sign of the fugitive about. Ruth did not tell Tom where the mouth of the
secret tunnel lay--nor did Tom ask for information.
As they hurried back, mounting the ridge that separated the lodge and its
outbuildings from the middle of the island, Ruth, looking back, suddenly
grabbed Tom's hand.
"See! see there!" she cried.
Tom looked in the direction to which she pointed. The stars gave light
enough for them to see miles across the ice. Several black figures were
hurrying toward the western end of the island from the direction of the
mainland--the southern shore of the lake.
"Who do you suppose those men are?" asked Ruth, faintly.
Tom shook his head slowly. "I expect it's Lem Daggett, the constable, and
others to hunt for poor Jerry. I feel almost sure that the man in the
lead is Daggett."
"Isn't that mean?" exclaimed Ruth, her voice shaking.
"It is. But I don't believe they will find Jerry very easily."
Just the same, Ruth was not to be comforted. She was very quiet all the
rest of the evening. Her absence, and Tom's, had not been noticed. The
crowd went to bed before eleven, having spent a most delightful Christmas
Eve.
Ruth sat at a window that overlooked a part of the island. Once she saw
the men who had crossed from the mainland climbing the hill toward the
lone pine.
"I hope they won't find a trace of him!" she murmured as she popped into
bed.
Ruth slept as soundly as any of her mates. A clanging bell at six o'clock
aroused the whole household. The sun was not yet up, but there was a
streak of gold across the eastern sky. It was Christmas morning.
Ruth ran again to the west window. A pillar of smoke rose straight from a
hollow on the higher part of the island. The searching party was still
there.
There was no time now to think of Jerry Sheming and his affairs. The girls
raced to see who should dress first. Downstairs there were "loads" of
presents waiting for them, so Belle declared.
"Come on!" cried Heavy, leading the way. "Ready all? March!"
The nine girls started through the hall and down the broad stairway in
single file. Heavy began to cheer and the others chimed in:
"'S.B.--Ah-h-h!
S.B.--Ah-h-h!
Sound our battle-cry
Near and far!
S.B.--All!
Briarwood Hall!
Sweetbriars, do or die--
This be our battle-cry--
Briarwood Hall!
_That's All_!'"
So sounding the Sweetbriars' challenge, they met the grinning boys at the
foot of the flight, before the huge, sparkling tree.
"Gee!" exclaimed Tom. "I'm mighty glad I suggested that name for your
secret society, Ruth. 'Sweetbriars'--it just fits you."