Ruth Fielding In the Saddle; Or, College Girls in the Land of Gold

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER III--THE LETTER FROM YUCCA

  Before Dare Hall was quiet that night it was known throughout thedormitory that six girls of the freshman class were going to spend apart of the summer vacation in the wilds of Arizona.

  "Like enough we'll never see any of them again," declared MayMacGreggor. "The female of the species is scarce in 'them parts,' Iunderstand. They will all six get married to cowboys, or gold miners,or----"

  "Or movie actors," snapped Edith Phelps, with a toss of her head. "Ipresume Fielding is quite familiar with any quantity of 'juvenile leads'and 'stunt' actors as well as 'custard-pie comedians.'"

  "Oh, behave, Edie!" chuckled the Scotch girl. "I'd love to go with 'emmyself, but I must help mother take care of the children this summer.There's a wild bunch of 'loons' at my house."

  Fortunately, Helen Cameron did not hear Edith's criticism. Helen had asharp tongue of her own and she had no fear now of the sophomore.Indeed, both Ruth and Helen had quite forgotten over night theirsuspicions regarding the girl at their study window. They arose betimesand went for a last run around the college grounds in their track suits,as they had been doing for most of the spring. The chums had gone in forathletics as enthusiastically at Ardmore as they had at Briarwood Hall.

  Just as they set out from the broad front steps of Dare and rounded thecorner of the building toward the west, Ruth stopped with a little cry.There at her feet lay a letter.

  "Somebody's dropped a billet-doux," said Helen. "Or is it just anenvelope?"

  Ruth picked it up and turned it over so that she could see its face."The letter is in it," she said. "And it's been opened. Why, Helen!"

  "Yes?"

  "It's for Edie Phelps."

  Helen had already glanced upward. "And right under our windows," shemurmured. "I bet she dropped it when----"

  "I suppose she did," said Ruth, as her chum's voice trailed off intosilence. Suddenly Helen, who was looking at the face of the envelope,gasped.

  "Look!" she exclaimed. "See the return address in the corner?"

  "Wha----Why, it says: 'Box 24, R. F. D., Yucca, Arizona!'"

  "Yucca, Arizona," repeated Helen. "Just where we are going. Ruth! thereis something very mysterious about this. Do you realize it?"

  "It is the oddest thing!" exclaimed Ruth.

  "Edith getting letters from out there and then creeping along that ledgeunder our windows to listen. Well, I'd give a cent to know what's inthat letter."

  "Oh, Helen! We couldn't," cried Ruth, quickly, folding the envelope andslipping it between the buttons of her blouse.

  "Just the same," declared her chum, "she was eavesdropping on us. Weought to be excused if we did a little eavesdropping on her by readingher letter."

  But Ruth set off immediately in a good, swinging trot, and Helen had toclose her lips and put her elbows to her sides to keep up with her.Later, when they had taken their morning shower and had dressed and allthe girls were trooping down the main stairway of Dare Hall in answer tothe breakfast call, Ruth spied Edith Phelps and hailed her, drawing theletter from her bosom.

  "Hi, Edith Phelps! Here's something that belongs to you."

  The sophomore turned quickly to face the girl of the Red Mill, and withno pleasant expression of countenance. "What have you there?" shesnapped.

  "A letter that you dropped," said Ruth, quietly.

  "That _I_ dropped?" and she came quickly to seize the proffered missive."Ha! I suppose you took pains to read it?"

  Ruth drew back, paling. The thrust hurt her cruelly and although shewould not reply, the sophomore's gibe did not go without answer. Helen'sblack eyes flashed as she stepped in front of her chum.

  "I can assure you Ruth and I do not read other people's correspondenceany more than we listen to other people's private conversation, Phelps,"she said directly. "We found that letter _under our window where youdropped it last night!_"

  Ruth caught at her arm; but the stroke went home. Edith Phelps' facereddened and then paled. Without further speech she hurried away withthe letter gripped tightly in her hand. She did not appear at breakfast.

  "It's terrible to be always ladylike," sighed Helen to Ruth. "I just_know_ we have seen one end of a mystery. And that's all we are likelyto see."

  "It is the most mysterious thing why Phelps should be interested in ouraffairs, and be getting letters from Yucca," admitted Ruth.

  The chums had no further opportunity of talking this matter over, for itwas at breakfast that Rebecca Frayne threw her bomb. At least, JennieStone said it was such. Rebecca came over to Miss Comstock's table wherethe chums and Jennie sat and demanded:

  "Ruth Fielding! who is going to chaperon your party?"

  "What? Chaperon?" murmured Ruth, quite taken aback by the question.

  "Of course. You say Helen's brother is going. And there will be a guideand other men. We've got to have a chaperon."

  "Oh!" gasped Helen. "Poor old Tommy! If he knew that! He won't bite you,Rebecca."

  "You girls certainly wouldn't dream of going on that long journey unlessyou were properly attended?" cried Rebecca, horrified.

  "What do you think we need?" demanded Jennie Stone. "A trained nurse, ora governess?"

  Rebecca was thoroughly shocked. "My aunt would never hear of such aproceeding," she affirmed. "Oh, Ruth Fielding! I want to go with you;but, of course, there must be some older woman with us."

  "Of course--I presume so," sighed Ruth. "I hadn't thought that far."

  "Whom shall we ask?" demanded Helen. "Mrs. Murchiston won't go. She'sstruck. She says she is too old to go off with any harum-scarum crowd ofschool girls again."

  "I like that!" exclaimed Jennie, in a tone that showed she did not likeit at all. "We have got past the hobbledehoy age, I should hope."

  Miss Comstock, the senior at their table, had become interested in theaffair, and she suggested pleasantly:

  "We Ardmores often try to get the unattached members of the faculty tofill the breach in such events as this. Try Miss Cullam."

  "Oh, dear me!" muttered Helen.

  Ruth said briskly, "Miss Cullam is just the person. Do you suppose shehas her summer free, Miss Comstock?"

  "She was saying only last evening that she had made no plans."

  "She shall make 'em at once," declared Ruth, jumping up and leaving herbreakfast. "Excuse me, Miss Comstock. I am going to find Miss Cullam,instantly."

  It was Miss Cullam, too, who had worried most about the lost examinationpapers which Ruth had been the means of finding (as related in "RuthFielding at College"); and the instructor of mathematics had taken aparticular interest in the girl of the Red Mill and her personalaffairs.

  "I haven't ridden horseback since I was a girl," she said, in somedoubt. "And, my _dear!_ you do not expect me to ride a-straddle as girlsdo nowadays? Never!"

  "Neither will Rebecca," chuckled Ruth. "But we who have been on theplains before, know that a divided skirt is a blessing to womankind."

  "I do not think I shall need that particular blessing," Miss Cullamsaid, rather grimly. "But I believe I will accept your invitation, RuthFielding. Though perhaps it is not wise for instructors and pupils tospend their vacations together. The latter are likely to lose their fearof us----"

  "Oh, Miss Cullam! There isn't one of us who has a particle of fear ofyou," laughed Ruth.

  "Ahem! that is why some of you do not stand so well in mathematics asyou should," said the teacher dryly.

  That was a busy day; but the party Ruth was forming made all theirplans, subject, of course, to agreement by their various parents andguardians. In one week they were to meet in New York, prepared to makethe long journey by train to Yucca, Arizona, and from that point intothe mountains on horseback.

  Helen found time for a little private investigation; but it was notuntil she and Ruth were on the way home to Cheslow in the parlor carthat she related her meager discoveries to her chum.

  "What did you ever learn about Edie Phelps?" Helen asked.

  "Oh! Edie? I had forgotte
n about her."

  "Well, I didn't forget. The mystery piques me, as the story writerssay," laughed Helen. "Do you know that her father is an awfully richman?"

  "Why, no. Edith doesn't make a point of telling everybody perhaps,"returned Ruth, smiling.

  "No; she doesn't. You've got to hand it to her for that. But, then, toblow about one's wealth is about as crude a thing as one can do, isn'tit?"

  "Well, what about Edith's father?" asked Ruth, curiously.

  "Nothing particular. Only he is one of our 'captains of industry' thatthe Sunday papers tell about. Makes oodles of money in mines, so I wastold. Edith has no mother. She had a brother----"

  "Oh! is he dead?" cried Ruth, with sympathy.

  "Perhaps he'd better be. He was rusticated from his college last year.It was quite a scandal. His father disowned him and he disappeared.Edith felt awfully, May says."

  "Too bad," sighed Ruth.

  "Why, of course, it's too bad," grumbled Helen. "But that doesn't helpus find out why Edie is so much interested in our going to Yucca; norhow she comes to be in correspondence with anybody in that far, farwestern town. What do you think it means, Ruthie?"

  "I haven't the least idea," declared the girl of the Red Mill, shakingher head.