RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS
ALICE B. EMERSON
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RUTH FIELDING
AT GOLDEN PASS
OR
THE PERILS OF
AN ARTIFICIAL AVALANCHE
BY
ALICE B. EMERSON
Author of “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,” “Ruth Fielding
in the Far North,” “Betty Gordon Series,” etc.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
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Books for Girls
BY ALICE B. EMERSON
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.
RUTH FIELDING SERIES
RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL
RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL
RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP
RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT
RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH
RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM
RUTH FIELDING AMONG THE GYPSIES
RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES
RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE
RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS
RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND
RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST
RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST
RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE
RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING
RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH
RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS
BETTY GORDON SERIES
BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM
BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON
BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL
BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP
BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK
BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS
BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH
Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York
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Copyright, 1925, by Cupples & Leon Company
Ruth Fielding at Golden Pass
Printed in U. S. A.
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CONTENTS
I. Fire
II. Tom to the Rescue
III. Good Old Times
IV. Golden Pass
V. A New Star
VI. Fine News
VII. The Leading Lady
VIII. The Party
IX. On the Road
X. A Suspicious Move
XI. Trouble in the Air
XII. In Peril
XIII. New Worries
XIV. Helen is Hurt
XV. Startling News
XVI. An Incredible Suggestion
XVII. Ruth Decides
XVIII. A New Role
XIX. A New Friend
XX. Not Acting
XXI. The Narrow Ledge
XXII. A Test of Courage
XXIII. Buried Alive
XXIV. Bears
XXV. Sunlight Once More
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RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS
CHAPTER I
FIRE
Main Street was jammed with an unprecedented crowd of people and
traffic. Automobiles discharged a continual stream of humanity before
the doors of the new motion picture house in Cheslow.
Laughing girls and their escorts, older men and women, paused before the
rather flamboyant poster in the lobby of the picture house advertising
Miss Ruth Fielding’s personal appearance with the introduction of this,
her new and greatest picture, “Snowblind.”
Nearly all Cheslow had turned out in honor of this star in picturedom,
Ruth Fielding. As Ruth had been a resident of Cheslow since her
childhood, it is not strange that the town took a proprietary interest
in her.
At that particular moment poor Ruth was feeling extremely unlike the
Miss Fielding of the flamboyant poster. She was excited and nervous, and
the prospect of facing such an audience as would in all probability pack
the Palace that night filled her with an emotion akin to panic.
Also, though she was sure in her own mind that “Snowblind” was a good
picture, felt that she had put the best of her art into the making of
it, there was always the doubt as to just how it would be received by
that fickle thing, an American audience.
The latter, besides being fickle, was pitiless. Where it condemned, it
condemned so heartily that the object of its displeasure might just as
well be sent at once to the darkest corner of the director’s room of
discarded plays. It was done for--a complete failure. This, unless there
was the possibility of practically remaking the whole thing. And in the
case of Ruth Fielding’s “Snowblind,” where the scenes had actually been
filmed amid the snow and ice of the far North, retakes would be an
impossibility.
Some of this Ruth had been saying to her chum, Helen Cameron, as she
restlessly paced the length of the living room at the Red Mill. The two
girls were dressed and ready to start for the theater, but were awaiting
the arrival of Tom, Helen’s twin brother, and Helen’s fiancé, Chess
Copley, who were to take them to their destination in Tom’s car.
“Helen, if my picture doesn’t go and go big,” said Ruth, pausing in her
restless pacing to stare at her chum, “I think I shall die of
disappointment.”
Helen laughed. There was a light in her eye as though she enjoyed a
secret all her own. She seated herself, unnoticed by her chum, in a
chair by the window from which she could command a view of the approach
to the Red Mill.
“Cheer up, Ruthie,” she said. “Disappointment seldom kills.” Then, as
she drew forth a pocket mirror and carefully examined her nose for a
hint of shine, she added: “Anyway, your ‘Snowblind’ hasn’t a chance in
the world to fail, Ruth Fielding. It is a tremendous picture, and you
know it.”
“If only the public will think so, too!” said Ruth, half to herself. She
went over to the window and looked out impatiently. “Isn’t it time for
the boys to come?”
“Gracious me, so it is!” cried Helen, with a glance of mock surprise at
her wrist watch. “These laggards shall suffer for such neglect. Wait
till I get hold of Chess----”
“Don’t rave. Here comes some one now,” Ruth interrupted.
Still enjoying her secret, Helen attempted to get Ruth away from the
window. But the latter had seen something which roused her curiosity and
she would not be moved.
“What do you suppose that means?” she asked herself, puzzled. “There’s
more than one car. Why, it’s a regular procession--one, two, three!
Helen, you know, you bad child!” She turned to her chum, caught the
mischievous gleam in her eyes, and shook her a little impatiently. “Tell
me! What is it?”
For answer, Helen held up a warning hand.
“Listen!” she said.
Across the still night air, there came a sound of singing.
“Sweetbriars come here, one by one,
But one wide river to cross!
There’s lots of work, but plenty of fun,
With one wide river to cross!
Sweetbriars all-l!
One wide river of Knowledge!
Sweetbriars all-l!
One wide river to cross!”
There was an instant’s hush. Then before Ruth could move from where she
stood spellbound, the old yell crashed through the silence.
“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!”
It was a full second after the magic of that yell had died away into the
silence of the evening before Ruth could command herself to action.
Then with a stifled cry she darted out to the porch.
A whirlwind met her, a whirlwind of bear-like hugs and joyful greetings.
“Ruthie, don’t say we actually surprised you!”
“Here, get away, Ann Hicks! I haven’t had my chance at her yet.”
“Let go of her, Heavy! There won’t be enough left to speak its piece
to-night!”
These and other gay and jumbled greetings half-deafened Ruth. She pushed
the surprise party away from her in an effort to identify more clearly
the members of it. Happy tears sprang to her eyes as she recognized them
all.
“Nettie Parsons, you old dear. Give me another hug, that’s the girl.
Bless me! There’s The Fox, as large as life and twice as natural. And
Mercy Curtis! How well you look, honey! All the dear old crowd. Heavy,”
she turned accusingly to the rather large young woman who hovered in the
background of the group, “are you responsible for this?”
“Not guilty! Ask Ann--she knows!”
There were young men in the party, too, friends of Tom and Chess, whom
the latter had asked to play escort to Ruth’s old school chums who had
come on to Cheslow at the instigation of Mrs. Jennie Marchand, nee
Stone, and Ann Hicks.
Ruth knew these boys and nodded to them pleasantly enough. But she was
still too taken up with the delightful and unexpected arrival of these
old friends of hers to accord the male members of the party much
attention.
The latter followed the girls back into the house, grinning indulgently
at the clatter of tongues and the happy exclamations of the reunited
chums.
“I must sit down! The surprise has been too much for me!” Ruth laughed
as she sank down on the couch and the girls clustered on every side of
her. “Now tell me, Jennie Marchand or Ann Hicks, or whoever is
responsible, just how it happened.”
“Ann started the ball rolling,” responded Jennie Marchand, she of the
round face and jolly smile. “Conceived the bright idea of getting some
of the Briarwood Hall girls together--some of the old crowd, who had
helped make ‘Heart of a School Girl’ famous--justly famous, I may
say----”
“So,” Ann Hicks continued eagerly, “we gathered together as many of the
old guard as we could at such short notice and--here we are.”
“Yes, here you are!” cried Ruth, looking about at them affectionately.
“And now, if no one objects, I think I shall start at the beginning and
hug you all over again!”
This pleasing ceremony being satisfactorily accomplished, Tom stepped
forward with the suggestion that they start for the theater at once.
“Oh, is every one going?” asked Ruth, innocently enough. For the moment
she had actually forgotten her picture.
“Is every one going? Just hear the child!” Jennie
Marchand--affectionately known in the old days as “Heavy”--stood with
arms akimbo regarding Ruth amusedly. “May I ask, Ruth Fielding, what you
think we came all the way to Cheslow for?”
“Besides seeing you!” said Mercy Curtis in Ruth’s ear. Mercy did not
live far away.
“More than that,” declaimed Mary Cox, more popularly known in schooldays
as “The Fox,” “we have prepared a delectable spread for you after the
show, Ruth Fielding, to celebrate the success of ‘Snowblind’.”
Uncle Jabez Potter and Aunt Alvirah appeared at the moment and attention
was instantly turned to them. Most of the girls had met Aunt Alvirah,
who greeted them with a fluttering cordiality.
Uncle Jabez acknowledged the introductions in his usual crabbed fashion
and declared that if they did not start at once they would be late for
the show.
“The picture’ll be over before we get there,” he grumbled. “And us with
a chance to stay home and make ourselves comfortable.”
“Cheerful old boy,” whispered Jennie Marchand in Helen’s ear. “Face like
a nut cracker.”
Helen looked toward Uncle Jabez and grimaced ruefully.
“He never approved of Ruth’s interest in the pictures,” she said. “If he
had had his way Ruth would never have gone much farther than the Red
Mill.”
“And look at her now!” said Nettie Parsons.
“Yes, look at her now,” laughed Helen. “Our old schoolmate, Ruth
Fielding, is on the way to becoming quite a personage, I’ll have you
know!”
There were a great many others who, either publicly or privately, echoed
that view on this particular evening. For the showing of “Snowblind” was
a sweeping triumph from the preliminary scenes taken in New York to
those final tremendous and climatic scenes taken in the snow-blanketed
and wind-swept spaces of the frozen North.
The story held together from start to finish, a proof of Ruth’s ability
both as scenario writer and director. Anita Townsend and Grand, the
co-stars of the picture, were almost equally fine in their portrayal of
the parts assigned them, while the introduction of the old trappers gave
just the necessary added touch of local color.
The audience wept--and this included most emphatically Ruth’s school
chums--when author and actors demanded it, laughed at their will, and
applauded thunderously the dramatic scenes. In the inspiration of their
enthusiasm Ruth forgot her reluctance to speak in public. Instead, she
was eager to meet this friendly and appreciative audience.
At the close of the picture she stepped upon the stage and into the
spotlight. Her young voice came to them clearly, holding them tense and
interested as she related the adventures of her party in the frozen
country, described how the various “locations” were found and the
pictures filmed.
“Doesn’t our Ruthie look too sweet for words, Heavy? Aren’t you proud of
her?” whispered Helen.
“Yes, surely. But listen to her!”
“And now,” Ruth finished, “I want to thank you all in behalf of my
company and myself for your appreciation and your generous applause. We
all----”
A sharp explosion caught up her words, drowning them in a fierce
detonation. From here and there in the audience rose frightened cries.
“The theater is on fire!”
“Fire! fire! The theater is on fire!”
“Let me get out of this!”
“I’ll be burnt to death! Oh!”