Ruth Fielding on Cliff Island by Alice Emerson

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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."

CHAPTER XVIII

FUN ON THE ICE

Of course, the girls had prepared one another's presents long before. Each
had been tied in a queer bundle so, in trimming the tree, the nature of
the contents could not be guessed.

The oddest shaped things hung from the branches of the Christmas tree, and
the boys had excelled in making up these "surprise packages." Mrs. Tingley
handed the presents out, while the boys lifted them down for her. A long,
tightly rolled parcel, which looked as though it ought to contain an
umbrella, and was marked "To Helen from Tom," finally proved to contain a
jeweler's box, in which nestled a pretty ring, which delighted his twin.

A large, flat package, big enough to hold a large kite, was carefully
opened by Belle, who finally found in it, among the many tissue wrappings,
a pretty set of hair combs set with stones. In a roughly-done-up parcel
was a most disreputable old shoe addressed to Lluella. She was going to
throw it out, but the boys advised her so strongly not to that she finally
burrowed to the toe and found, to her amazement, a gold bracelet.

There was a good-sized box for Ann Hicks--just as it had come from the
express office at Lumberton a week before. Having been addressed in Mrs.
Tellingham's care, the western girl had known nothing about it.

Now it was opened last. It had come all the way from Silver Ranch, of
course. Such a set of furs no girl at Briarwood possessed. There were a
number of other presents from the cowboys, from Mrs. Sally, and from
Bashful Ike himself. Ann was so pleased and touched that she ran away to
hide her tears.

There were presents for each of the girls and boys who had been at
Bullhide the previous summer. Bill Hicks had forgotten nobody, and, as
Mrs. Tellingham had once said, the ranchman certainly was a generous man.

No member of the house party was overlooked on this bright Christmas
morning. Mercy's presents were as costly and numerous as those of any
other girl. Besides, the lame girl had been able to give her mates
beautiful little keepsakes that expressed her love for them quite as much
as would have articles that cost more money.

Her presents to the boys were funny, including a jumping jack on a stick
to Isadore, the face of which Mercy had whittled out and painted to look
a good deal like the features of that active youth.

For two hours the young folk reveled in their presents. Then suddenly
Heavy smelled the breakfast coffee and she led the charge to the long
dining room. They were in the midst of the meal when Mr. Tingley himself
arrived, having reached Logwood on the early train and driven across the
ice in a sleigh.

The Tingley young people met him hilariously. He was a big, bewhiskered
man, with a jolly laugh and amiable manner. His eye could flash, too, if
need be, Ruth judged. And almost at once she had an opportunity of seeing
him stern.

"What crowd is that over at the west end of the island?" he asked his
wife. "I see they have a fire. There must be four or five men there. Is it
some of Blent's doings?"

"Oh, Dad!" cried Ralph Tingley, eagerly. "You ought to stop that. Those
fellows are hunting Jerry Sheming."

"Who is Jerry Sheming?" he asked, quickly.

Mrs. Tingley explained briefly.

"I remember now," said her husband. "And this is the young lady who spoke
a good word for the boy in the first place?" and he beckoned the eager
Ruth to them. "What have you to say for your protege now, Miss?"

"Everything that is good," declared the girl of the Red Mill, quickly. "I
am sure he is not at all the sort of boy this man Blent would have you
believe. And perhaps, Mr. Tingley, his old uncle _may_ have had some title
to a part of this island."

"That puts _me_ in bad, then--eh?" chuckled Mr. Tingley.

"Unless Mr. Blent has cheated you, sir," suggested Ruth, hesitatingly.

"He's a foxy old fellow. But I believe I have safeguarded myself. This
trouble about something being buried on the island--Well! I don't know
about that."

"I believe Jerry really has some idea now where his uncle put the box.
Even if the old hunter _was_ crazy, he might have had some valuables. And
surely Jerry has a better right to the box than Blent," Ruth said,
indignantly.

"I'll see about that. Just as soon as I have had breakfast, I'll take
Preston and go over and interview this gang of Blent's henchmen. I am not
at all sure that he has any right to hunt the boy down, warrant or no
warrant!"

That was when he looked grim and his eyes flashed. Ruth felt that her
friend's father was just the man to give Jerry Sheming a fair deal if he
had the chance.

When the boys proposed getting out the two iceboats and giving the girls a
sail (for the wind was fresh), Ruth was as eager as the others to join in
the sport.

Not all the girls would trust themselves to the scooters, but there were
enough who went down to the ice to make an exceedingly hilarious party.

Ralph Tingley and Tom Cameron were the best pilots. The small iceboats
were built so that two passengers could ride beside the steersman and
sheet tender. So the girls took turns in racing up and down the smooth ice
on the south side of the island.

Ruth and Helen liked to go together with Tom, who had Busy Izzy to tend
sheet. It was "no fair" if one party traveled farther than from the dock
to the mouth of the creek and back again.

The four friends--Ruth and her chum, and Tom and Busy Izzy--were making
their second trip over the smooth course. Bobbins, with his sister and The
Fox, and Ralph Tingley, manned the other boat.

The two swift craft had a splendid race to the mouth of that brook which,
because of its swiftness, still remained unshackled by the frost. The
shallow stream of water poured down over the rocks into the lake, but
there was only a small open place at the point where the brook emptied
into its waters into the larger and more placid body.

When the two iceboats swung about, the one Bobbins manned got away at once
and swiftly passed down the lake. The sheet fouled in Tom's boat. Busy
Izzy had to drop the sail and the boat was brought to a halt.

"There are Mr. Tingley and Preston going over to talk to the constable and
his crowd," remarked Isadore. "See yonder?"

"I hope he sends those men off the island. I don't see what right they
have here, anyway," Helen exclaimed.

"If only Jerry knows enough to keep under cover while they are here," said
Tom, looking meaningly at Ruth. They both wondered if the fugitive had
ventured out of his cave to find the mattock and box of food they had left
for him the evening before.

The craft was under way again in a minute or two, and they swept down the
course in the wake of the other boat. Suddenly the sharp crack of a rifle
echoed across the island. Helen screamed. Ruth risked the boom and sat up
to look behind.

"There's a fight!" yelled Busy Izzy. "I believe they're after Jerry."

They saw Mr. Tingley and Preston hastening their steps toward the brook.
As the iceboat swept out farther from the shore, the four friends aboard
her could see several men running in the same direction. One bore a
smoking gun in his hand.

"Right towards that rock, Ruthie!" gasped Tom, venturing a glance behind
him.

"What rock do you mean?" demanded his sister.

"The rock where you folks found me the other day. It's near the opening to
Jerry's cave. I see them!"

"'Ware boom!" yelled Tom, and shifted his helm.

The great sail went slowly over; the iceboat swooped around like a great
bird skimming the ice. Then, in a minute, it was headed back up the lake
toward the scene of the trouble.

Another rifle shot echoed across the ice.

CHAPTER XIX

BLENT IS MASTER

Ruth was truly frightened, and so was her chum. Could it be possible that
those rough men dared fire their guns at Jerry Sheming? Or was the poor
boy foolish enough to try to frighten his pursuers off with the weapons
which Ruth very well knew he had in the cave with him?

"Oh, I'm glad Mr. Tingley's here to-day," cried Busy Izzy. "He'll give
that Lem Daggett what's coming to him--that's what _he'll_ do!"

"Hope so," agreed Tom, grimly.

The latter brought the iceboat into the wind near the shore, and Isadore
dropped the sail again. They all tumbled out and ran up the bank. A little
climb brought them to the plateau where they could see all that was going
on near the rock on which Ruth and Tom had left the mattock the evening
before.

Lem Daggett had four men with him--all rough-looking fellows, and armed
with rifles. Jerry Sheming was standing half-leg deep in the running
stream, his hands over his head, and the men were holding him under the
muzzles of their guns.

"Why! it beats the 'wild and woolly'!" gasped Tom Cameron. "Silver Ranch
and Bullhide weren't as bad as this. The scoundrels!"

"Come out o' that brook, Jerry, or it'll be the wuss for ye." Lem Daggett
drawled, standing on the flat rock and grinning at his captive.

"What do you want of me?" demanded the fugitive, sullenly.

"You know well enough. Oh, I got a warrant for ye, all right. Ev'rything's
all right an' proper. Ye know Rufe Blent don't make no mistakes. He's got
ye."

"An' here he comes now!" ejaculated another of the rough men, looking
toward the east end of the island.

The four hurrying young folk looked back. Driving hastily from the lodge,
and behind Mr. Tingley and Preston, came a heavy sleigh drawn by a pair of
horses. Rufus Blent and a driver were in it.

But Mr. Tingley approached first, and it was plain by a single glance at
his face that he was angry.

"What's all this shooting about?" he demanded. "Don't you men know that
Cliff Island is private property? You are trespassing upon it."

"Oh, I guess we're within our rights, boss," said Lem Daggett, laughing.
"I'm the constable. And these here are helpers o' mine. We was arter a
bird, and we got him."

"A warrant from a justice of the peace does not allow you to go out with
guns and rifles and shoot over private property," declared Mr. Tingley,
angrily. "Be off with you--and don't you dare come to this island again
without permission."

"Hold on, thar!" yelled Rufus Blent, leaping from the sleigh with more
agility than one would have given him credit for. "You air oversteppin'
the line, Mr. Tingley. That officer's in the right."

"No, he's not in the right. He'd never be in the right--hunting a boy with
an armed posse. I should think you and these other men would be ashamed of
yourselves."

"You look out, Mr. Tingley," warned Blent, hotly. "You're a stranger in
these parts. You try to balk me and you'll be sorry."

"Why?" demanded the city man, quite as angrily. "Are you the law and the
prophets here, Mr. Blent?"

"I know my rights. And if you want to live in peace here, keep out o' my
way!" snarled the real estate man.

"You old scoundrel!" exclaimed Mr. Tingley, stepping swiftly toward him.
"Get off Cliff Island--and get off quick. I'd spend a thousand dollars to
get a penny's worth of damages from you. I'll sue you in the civil courts
for trespass if you don't go--and go quick!

"Don't think I went blindly into the transaction that gave me title to
this island. I know all about your withholding the right to 'treasure
trove,' and all that. But it doesn't give you the right to trespass here.
Get out--and take your gang with you--or I'll have suit begun against you
at once."

Old Blent was troubled, but he had one good hold and he knew it. He
shouted to Lem Daggett:

"Serve that warrant, Lem, and come along. Bring that young rascal. I'll
fix him."

"Let me read that warrant!" exclaimed Mr. Tingley, suddenly.

"No, ye don't!" yelled Blent. "Don't let him take it into his hand. Read
it aloud to him. But make that pesky young Sheming come ashore first.
Before ye know it, he'll be runnin' away ag'in."

The men who "covered" Jerry motioned him to step up to the bank. They
looked so threatening that he obeyed. Daggett produced a legal looking
paper. He read this aloud, blunderingly, for he was an illiterate man.

Its contents were easily gathered, however. Squire Keller had signed the
warrant on complaint of Rufus Blent. Jerry was accused of having stolen
several boxes of ammunition and a revolver. The property had been found in
an old shed at Logwood where the boy had slept for a few nights after he
had first been driven from Cliff Island.

"Why, this is an old story, Blent," ejaculated Mr. Tingley, angrily. "The
boy left that shed months ago. He came directly to the island, when I
hired him, from the neighborhood of Lumberton, and Preston assures me he
hasn't been to Logwood since arriving."

"You can tell all that in court," snarled Blent, waving his hand. "If he's
got witnesses to clear him, I guess they'll be given a chance to testify."

"You're a villain!" declared the city man.

"Lemme tell you something, Mr. Tingley. There's a law to punish callin'
folks out o' their names! I know the law, an' don't you forgit it. Come
here, you, Jerry Sheming! Git in this sleigh. And you, too, Lem. You other
fellers can come back to Logwood and I'll pay ye as I agreed."

Ruth had, meanwhile, met Jerry when he came ashore. She seized his hand
and, almost in tears, told him how sorry she was he was captured.

"Don't you mind, Miss Ruth. He's bound to git me out of the way if he
can," whispered Jerry. "Rufe Blent is _all_ the law there is in Logwood, I
guess."

"But Mr. Tingley will help you."

"Maybe. But if Blent can't prove this hatched up business against me,
he'll keep right on persecuting me, if I don't light out. An' I believe I
found something, Miss Ruth."

"Your uncle's money?"

"I wouldn't say that. But I was goin' to break into another little cave if
I'd got hold of that mattock. The mouth is under the debris that fell with
the landslide. It was about where Uncle Pete said he hid his treasure box.
Poor Uncle Pete! Losin' that box was what sent him off his head complete,
like."

This had been said too low for the others to hear. But now Daggett came
forward and clamped his big paw on Jerry's shoulder.

"Come along, you!" commanded the constable, jerking his prisoner toward
the sledge.

"Oh, isn't it a mean, mean shame?" cried Helen Cameron.

"Wish that old Blent was my size," grumbled Busy Izzy, clenching his fists
and glaring at the real estate man.

"I wish I could do something at the present moment to help you, Sheming,"
said Mr. Tingley, his expression very angry. "But don't be afraid. You
have friends. I shall come right over to Keller's court, and I shall hire
a lawyer to defend you."

"You kin do all ye like," sneered Blent, as the sledge started with the
prisoner. "But I'll beat ye. And ye'll pay for tryin' to balk me, too."

"Don't you be too loose with your threats, Rufe," sang out Preston, the
foreman. "If anything happens over here on the island--any of Mr.
Tingley's property is destroyed--we'll know who to look to for damages."

"Yah!" snarled Blent, and drove away.

The fact remained, however, that, for the time being at least, Rufus Blent
was master of the situation.

CHAPTER XX

THE FISHING PARTY

Ruth felt so unhappy she wept openly. It seemed too bad that Jerry Sheming
should be taken away to the mainland a prisoner.

"They'll find some way of driving him out of this country again," remarked
Preston, the foreman. "You don't know Blent, Mr. Tingley, as well as the
rest of us do. Other city men have come up here and bucked against him in
times past--and they were sorry before they got through."

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