Ruth Fielding at Snow Camp; Or, Lost in the Backwoods

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER VI

  ON THE TRAIN

  When the Cameron automobile arrived at the Red Mill that forenoonFred Hatfield sat gloomily upon the porch steps. Ruth kept an eye onhim from the doorway. Mr. Cameron seemed to understand their positionwhen he came up the walk, and asked Ruth:

  "So, he wants to leave; does he?"

  Ruth merely nodded; but Fred Hatfield scowled at the dry-goodsmerchant and turned away his head.

  "Now, young man," said Mr. Cameron, standing in front of the sullenboy, with his legs wide apart and a smile upon his ruddy face, "now,young man, let's get to the bottom of this. You confide in me, and Iwill not betray your confidence. Why don't you want to live at home?"

  "I don't want to--that's all," muttered Fred Hatfield, shortly. "AndI _won't_."

  Mr. Cameron shook his head. "I hate to see one so young soobstinate," he said. "It may be that your mother and brothers andsisters find you a sore trial; perhaps they are glad you are not athome. But until I am sure of that I consider it my duty to keep aneye on you. I want you to come along with us to-day."

  "I know where you are going. This girl has told me," said thelight-haired youth, nodding at Ruth. "You're going up to Scarboro."

  "Yes. And I propose to take you with us. We'll see whether yourmother wants you or not."

  "You don't know what you're doing, sir!" gasped Fred Hatfield,crouching down upon the step.

  "I certainly do not know what I am doing," admitted Mr. Cameron."But that is your fault, not mine. If you would trust us--"

  "I can't!" cried the boy, shaking as though with a chill.

  "Then, you come along, young man," commanded the merchant.

  He put a hand upon Fred's shoulder and the boy wriggled out fromunder it and started to run. But Tom had got out of the automobileand seemed rather expecting this move. He sprang for the other boyand held him.

  "Here! hold on!" he cried. "Put on this old overcoat of mine thatI've brought along, It's going to be cold riding. Put it on--and thenget into the auto with us. Aw, come on! What are you afraid of?We aren't going to eat you."

  Snivelling, but ceasing his struggles, Fred Hatfield got into thecoat Tom offered him, and entered the car. Ruth said never a word,but she looked very grave.

  Uncle Jabez came to the door of the mill and Ruth ran to him andkissed the old miller goodbye. Not that he returned the kiss; UncleJabez looked as though he had never kissed anybody since he was born!But Aunt Alvirah hugged and caressed her "pretty creetur" with awarmth that made up for the miller's coldness.

  "Bless ye, deary!" crooned the little old woman, enfolding Ruth inher arms. "Go and have the best of times with your young friends.We'll be thinkin' of ye here--and don't run into peril up there inthe woods. Have a care."

  "Oh, we won't get into any trouble," Ruth declared, happily, with nosuspicion of what was before the party in the backwoods. "Goodbye!"

  "Good-bye, Ruthie--Oh, my back and oh, my bones!" groaned AuntAlvirah, as she hobbled into the house again, while Ruth ran down tothe car, leaped aboard, and the chauffeur started immediately. Ben,the hired man, had gone on to Cheslow with Ruth's trunk early in themorning, and now the automobile sped quickly over the smooth road tothe railroad station.

  By several different ways--for Cheslow was a junction of therailroad lines--the young folk who had been invited to Snow Camp hadgathered at the station to meet the Camerons and Ruth Fielding.Nobody noticed Fred Hatfield, saving Mr. Cameron and Ruth herself;but the runaway found no opportunity of leaving the party. Tom had noattention to give the Scarboro boy as he welcomed his own chums.

  "Here's old Bobbins and Busy Izzy!" he cried, seeing Bob Steele andhis sister, with Isadore Phelps, pacing the long platform as the carhalted.

  Bob Steele was a big, yellow-haired boy, rosy cheeked andgood-natured, but not a little bashful. As Madge, his sister, was ayear and a half older than Bob she often treated him like a verysmall boy indeed.

  "Now, Master Cameron!" she cried, when Tom appeared, "don't muss hisnice clean clothes. Be careful he doesn't get into anything. Be agood boy, Bobbie, and the choo-choo cars will soon come."

  Isadore Phelps was a sharp-looking boy, with red hair and so manyfreckles across the bridge of his nose and under his eyes that, at alittle distance, he looked as though he wore a brown mask. Isadoreseldom spoke without asking a question. He was a walkinginterrogation point. Perhaps that was one reason why he was knownamong his mates as "Busy Izzy," being usually busy about otherpeople's business.

  "What do you let her nag you for that way, Bob?" he cried. "I'dshake her, if she was my sister--wouldn't you, Tom?"

  "No," said Tom, boldly, for he considered Madge Steele quite a younglady. "She's too big to shake--isn't she, Bobbins?"

  But Bob only smiled in his slow way, and said nothing. The girlswere in a group by themselves--Helen and Ruth, Belle and Lluella,Jennie Stone (who rejoiced in the nickname of "Heavy" because of herplumpness) and Madge Steele. Mr. Cameron had gone to the ticketwindow to make an inquiry. It was Ruth who saw Fred Hatfield makingacross the tracks to where a freight train was being made up for thesouth.

  "Tom!" she cried to Helen's brother, and he turned and saw her glance.

  "By George, fellows!" exclaimed Tom, with some disgust. "There'sthat chap sneaking off again. We've got to watch him. Come on!"

  He ran after the runaway. Busy Izzy was at his ear in a moment:

  "What's the matter with him? Who is he? What's he been doing? Is hetrying to get aboard that freight? What do you want of him?"

  "Oh, hush! hush!" begged Tom. "Your clatter would deafen one." Thenhe shouted to Hatfield: "Hold on, there! the train will be in soon.Come back!"

  Hatfield stopped and turned back with a scowl. Tom grinned at himcheerfully and added:

  "Might as well take it easy. Dad says you're to go along with us, soI advise you to stick close."

  "Pleasant-looking young dog," said Bob, in an undertone. "What's hedone?"

  "I don't know that he has done anything," returned Tom, in the samelow tone. "But we're going to take him with us to Scarboro. That isthe place he has run away from."

  "Did he run away from home?" demanded Isadore Phelps. "What for?"

  "I don't know. But don't you ask him!" commanded Tom. "He wouldn'ttell you, anyway; he won't tell father. But don't nag him, Izzy."

  To the great surprise of the young folks, when the train bound northcame along, there was a private car attached to it, and in that carthe Cameron party were to travel. One of the railroad officials hadlent his own coach to the Cheslow merchant, and he and his party hadthe car to themselves.

  There was a porter and a steward aboard--both colored men; and soonafter the train started odors from the tiny kitchen assured the girlsand boys that they were to have luncheon on the train.

  "Isn't it delightful?" sighed Heavy, gustily, in Ruth's ear. "Ridingthrough the country on this fast train and being served with ourmeals--Oh, dear! why weren't _all_ fathers born rich?"

  "It's lucky your father isn't any richer than he is, Jennie Stone!"whispered Madge Steele, who heard this. "If he was, you'd do nothingbut eat all the livelong day."

  "Well, I might do a deal worse," returned Heavy. "Father says thathimself. He says he wishes my reports were better at Briarwood; buthe can't expect me to put on flesh and gain much learning at the sametime--not when the days are only twenty-four hours long."

  They all laughed a good deal at Heavy, but she was so good-naturedthat the girls all liked her, too. What they should do when theyreached Snow Camp was the principal topic of conversation. As thetrain swept northward the snow appeared. It was piled in fencecorners and lay deep in the woods. Some ice-bound streams and pondswere thickly mantled in the white covering.

  Mr. Cameron read his papers or wrote letters in one compartment;Mrs. Murchiston was the girls' companion most of the time, while Tomand his two chums had a gay time by themselves. They tried to getFred Hatfield into their company, but the runaway boy would notrespond to their ov
ertures.

  At the dinner table, when the fun became fast and furious, FredHatfield did not even smile. Heavy whispered to Ruth that she neverdid see a boy before who was so dreadfully solemn. "And he growssolemner and solemner every mile we travel!" added Heavy. "What doyou suppose is on his mind?"

  Ruth was quite sure she knew what was on the lad's mind; but she didnot say. Indeed, all the day long she was troubled by the specialknowledge she had gained from the newspaper clipping that she carriedhidden in the bottom of her pocket. Should she tell Mr. Cameron aboutit? Should she speak plainly to Fred himself about it? The nearerthey approached Scarboro the more uncertain she became, and the moresullen Fred Hatfield looked.

  Ruth watched him a good deal, but so covertly that her girl friendsdid not notice her abstraction. The short Winter day was beginning todraw in and the red sun was hanging low above the tree-tops when Mr.Cameron announced that the second stop of the train would be theirdestination. The party--at least, Mr. Cameron, the governess, and theyoung folk--were to remain at the hotel in Scarboro over-night. Theserving people and the baggage were to go on that evening to Snow Camp.

  Fred Hatfield sauntered to the rear of the car and stood looking outof the window in the door. The flagman was on the rear platform,however, and he could not get down without being observed. The stopat this town was brief; then the train sped on through the deep woods.

  But suddenly the airbrakes were put on again and they slowed downwith a good deal of clatter and bumping.

  "We're not at Scarboro yet, surely?" cried Mrs. Murchiston.

  "No, no!" Mr. Cameron assured them. "We're stopping from some othercause--why, this is merely a flag station. Not even a station--just acrossing."

  A white-sheeted road crossed the rails. There were two or threehouses in sight and a big general store, over the door of which waspainted:

  EMORYVILLE P. O.

  But the train had stopped and the rear brake-man, or flagman, seizedhis lamp and ran back to wait for the engineer to recall him. It wasgrowing dusk and the lamps had been lighted the length of the train.The general interest of the party drew their attention forward. Ruth,suddenly remembering Fred Hatfield, looked toward the rear of thecar. Fred was just going out of the door in the wake of the brakeman.

  "Oh, he mustn't go!" whispered Ruth to herself, and leaving her girlcompanions she ran back to speak to the runaway boy. When she reachedthe door, Fred had already descended the steps. She saw him runacross the tracks, and quick as a flash she sprang down after him.