Part 19 (1/2)

”What was Crab showing her the paper for?”

”What can Crab have to do with it, anyway?” returned Ruth, although she had not forgotten the interest the a.s.sistant lighthouse keeper had shown in Nita from the first.

”Don't know. But if he recognized her----”

”From the picture?” asked Ruth.

”Well! you look at it. That drawing of the girl on horseback looks more like her than the photographic half-tone,” said Tom. ”She looks just that wild and harum-scarum!”

Ruth laughed. ”There _is_ a resemblance,” she admitted. ”But I don't understand why Crab should have any interest in the girl, anyway.”

”Neither do I. Let's keep still about it. Of course, we'll tell Nell,” said Tom. ”But n.o.body else. If that old ranchman is her uncle he ought to be told where she is.”

”Maybe she was not happy with him, after all,” said Ruth, thoughtfully.

”My goodness!” Tom cried, preparing to go back to the other boys who were calling him. ”I don't see how anybody could be unhappy under such conditions.”

”That's all very well for a boy,” returned the girl, with a superior air. ”But think! she had no girls to a.s.sociate with, and the only women were squaws and a Mexican cook!”

Ruth watched Nita, but did not see the a.s.sistant lighthouse keeper speak to the runaway during the pa.s.sage home, and from the dock to the bungalow Ruth walked by Nita's side. She was tempted to show the page of the newspaper to the other girl, but hesitated. What if Nita really _was_ Jane Hicks? Ruth asked herself how _she_ would feel if she were burdened with that practical but unromantic name, and had to live on a lonely cattle ranch without a girl to speak to.

”Maybe I'd run away myself,” thought Ruth. ”I was almost tempted to run away from Uncle Jabez when I first went to live at the Red Mill.”

She had come to pity the strange girl since reading about the one who had run away from Silver Ranch. Whether Nita had any connection with the newspaper article or not, Ruth had begun to see that there might be situations which a girl couldn't stand another hour, and from which she was fairly forced to flee.

The fis.h.i.+ng party arrived home in a very gay mood, despite the incident of Ruth's involuntary bath. Mary c.o.x kept away from the victim of the accident and when the others chaffed Ruth, and asked her how she came to topple over the rock, The Fox did not even change color.

Tom scolded in secret to Ruth about Mary. ”She ought to be sent home.

I'll not feel that you're safe any time she is in your company. I've a mind to tell Miss Kate Stone,” he said.

”I'll be dreadfully angry if you do such a thing, Tom,” Ruth a.s.sured him, and that promise was sufficient to keep the boy quiet.

They were all tired and not even Helen objected when bed was proposed that night. In fact, Heavy went to sleep in her chair, and they had a dreadful time waking her up and keeping her awake long enough for her to undress, say her prayers, and get into bed.

In the other girls' room Ruth and her companions spent little time in talking or frolicking. Nita had begged to sleep with Mercy, with whom she had spent considerable time that day and evening; and the lame girl and the runaway were apparently both asleep before Ruth and Helen got settled for the night.

Then Helen dropped asleep between yawns and Ruth found herself lying wide-awake, staring at the faintly illuminated ceiling. Of a sudden, sleep had fled from her eyelids. The happenings of the day, the mystery of Nita, the meanness of Mary c.o.x, her own trouble at the mill, the impossibility of her going to Briarwood next term unless she found some way of raising money for her tuition and board, and many, many other thoughts, trooped through Ruth Fielding's mind for more than an hour.

Mostly the troublesome thoughts were of her poverty and the seeming impossibility of her ever discovering any way to earn such a quant.i.ty of money as three hundred and fifty dollars. Her chum, lying asleep beside her, did not dream of this problem that continually troubled Ruth's mind.

The clock down stairs tolled eleven solemn strokes. Ruth did not move.

She might have been sound asleep, save for her open eyes, their gaze fixed upon the ceiling. Suddenly a beam of light flashed in at one window, swinging from right to left, like the blade of a phantom scythe, and back again.

Ruth did not move, but the beam of light took her attention immediately from her former thoughts. Again and once again the flash of light was repeated. Then she suddenly realized what it was. Somebody was walking down the path toward the private dock, swinging a lantern.

She would have given it no further thought had not a door latch clicked.

Whether it was the latch of her room, or another of the bedrooms on this floor of the bungalow, Ruth could not tell. But in a moment she heard the bal.u.s.trade of the stair creak.

”It's Izzy again!” thought Ruth, sitting up in bed. ”He's walking in his sleep. The boys did not tie him.”