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

by Alice B. Emerson

  CHAPTER XVI

  AN APPEARANCE AND A DISAPPEARANCE

  The dog's snapping barks and the squalling of the catamount stilledevery other sound to Ruth Fielding's ears. She had fallen back to theedge of the clearing, and knew not what to do.

  She feared desperately for Reno's safety; but for the moment did notknow what she might do to help the faithful beast.

  She tripped upon a branch and fell to her knees, and the butt of therifle which she had clung to, struck her sharply in the side.

  "Oh! if I had only learned to use a gun!" gasped the distracted girl."_Could_ I shoot straight enough to do any good, if I tried? Or wouldI kill the poor dog?"

  At the moment Reno expressed something beside rage in his yelping.He sprang out of the cloud of snow-spray with an agonized cry, andRuth saw that there was blood upon his jaws, and a great gash high upon one shoulder.

  "Oh! the poor fellow! Poor Reno!" gasped Ruth Fielding. "He will bekilled by that hateful brute."

  Spurred by this thought she did not rise from her knee, but threwthe barrel of the gun forward. It chanced to rest in the crook of abranch--the very branch over which she had tripped the moment before.She drew the butt of the gun close to her shoulder; she drew back thehammer and tried to sight along the barrel. Suddenly she saw thetawny side of the panther directly before her--seemingly it was atthe end of the rifle barrel.

  The beast was crouching to leap. Ruth did not know where Reno thenwas; but she could hear him whimpering. The mastiff had been sorelyhurt and the panther was about to finish him.

  And with this thought in her mind, Ruth steadied the rifle as bestshe could and pulled the trigger. The sharp explosion and the shriekof the panther seemed simultaneous. Through the little drift of smokeshe saw the creature spring; but it did not spring far. One hind leghung useless--there was a patch of crimson on the beaten snow--thehuge cat, snarling and yowling, was going around and around, snappingat its own leg.

  But that flurry was past in a moment. The snow-dust subsided. Ruthhad sprung to her feet, dropping the rifle, delighted for the momentthat she should have shot the panther.

  But she little knew the nature and courage of the beast. On threelegs only the huge cat writhed across the clearing, having spied thegirl; and now, with a fierce scream of anger, it crouched to springupon Ruth. She seemed devoted to the panther's revenge, for she wassmitten with that terror which shackles voice and limb.

  "Oh, Reno! Reno!" she whispered; but the sound did not pass her ownlips. The dog was not in sight He lay somewhere in the bushes,licking his wounds. The fierce panther had bested him, and nowcrouched, ready to spring upon the helpless girl.

  With a snarl of pain and rage the beast leaped at her. Its brokenleg caused it to fall short by several yards, and the pain of theinjured limb, when it landed, caused the catamount to howl again andtear up the snow in its agony.

  Ruth could not run; she was rooted to the spot. She had bravely shotat the creature once. Better had it been for her had she not used therifle at all. She had only turned the wrath of the savage cat fromReno to herself.

  And Ruth realized that she was now its helpless quarry. She couldneither fight nor run. She sank back into the snow and awaited thenext leap of the panther.

  At this very moment of despair--when death seemed inevitable--therewas a crash in the bushes behind her and a figure broke through andflung itself past her. A high, shrill, excited voice cried:

  "Give me that gun! Is it loaded?"

  Ruth could not speak, but the questioner saw instantly that therewere cartridges in the magazine of Tom Cameron's gun. He leapedupright and faced the crouching cat.

  The panther, with a fearful snarl, had to change the direction ofits leap. It sprang into the air, all four paws spread and itsterrible claws unsheathed. But its breast was displayed, too, to thenew victim of its rage.

  Bang!

  The rifle spat a yard of fire, which almost scorched the creature'sbreast. The impact of the bullet really drove the cat backward--orelse the agony of its death throes turned the heavy body from itsvictim. It threw a back somersault and landed again in the snow,tearing it up for yards around, the crimson tide from its woundsspattering everything thereabout.

  "Oh, it's dead!" cried Ruth, with clasped hands, when suddenly thebeast's limbs stiffened. "You've killed it!"

  Then she had a chance to look at the person who had saved her.

  "Fred Hatfield!" she cried. "Is it you? Or, who _are_ you? forthey all say Fred Hatfield is dead and buried."

  "It doesn't matter who I am, Ruth Fielding," said the strange lad,in no pleasant tone.

  "Never mind. Come and see Mr. Cameron. Come to the camp. He willhelp you----"

  "I don't want his help," replied the boy. "I'll help myself--with_this_," and he tapped the barrel of the rifle.

  "But that belongs to Tom----"

  "He'll have to lend it to me, then," declared the boy. "I tell you,I am not going to be bound by anybody. I'm free to do as I please.You can go back to that camp. There's nothing to hurt you now."

  At the moment Ruth heard voices shouting from the frozen stream. Theboys were skating back toward the pond, and had heard the rifle shots.

  "Oh, wait till they come!" Ruth cried.

  "No. I'm off--and don't any of you try to stop me," said the boy,threateningly.

  He slipped on the snowshoes which he had kicked off when he sprangfor the rifle, and at once started away from the clearing.

  "Don't go!" begged Ruth. "Oh, dear! wait! Let me thank you."

  "I don't want your thanks. I hate the whole lot of you!" returnedthe boy, looking back over his shoulder.

  The next moment he had disappeared, and Ruth was left alone. Shemade a detour of the spot where the dead panther lay and called toReno. The mastiff dragged himself from under a bush. He was badly cutup, but licked her hand when she knelt beside him.

  "Hello! who's shooting over there?" cried Tom Cameron from the stream.

  "Oh, Tom! Tom! Come and help me!" replied Ruth, and in half a minutethe three boys, having kicked off their skates, were in the glade.

  "Merciful goodness!" gasped Bob Steele. "See what a beast that is!"

  Tom, with a cry of pain, dashed forward and fell beside Ruth toexamine the mastiff.

  "My poor dog!" he cried. "Is he badly hurt? What's happened to him?"

  "Did she shoot that panther?" demanded Isadore Phelps. "Look at it,Tom!"

  "Reno isn't so badly hurt, Tom," Ruth declared. "I believe he has abroken leg and these cuts. He dashed right in and attacked thepanther. What a brave dog he is!"

  "But he never killed the beast," said Bob. "Who did that?"

  "Who was shooting here? Where's the gun, Ruth?" Tom demanded, nowgiving some attention to the dead animal.

  Ruth related the affair in a few words, while she helped Tom bind upReno's wounds. The young master tore up his handkerchiefs to do dutyas bandages for the wounded dog.

  "We'll carry him to camp--we can do it, easily enough, old man,"said Bob Steele.

  "And what about the panther? Don't we want his pelt?" cried Isadore.

  "We'll send Long Jerry after that," Tom said. "I wish that fellowhadn't run away with the rifle. But you couldn't help it, Ruth."

  "He certainly is a bad boy," declared the girl. "Yet--somehow--I amsorry for him. He must be all alone in these woods. Something willhappen to him."

  "Never mind. We can forgive him, and hope that he'll pull throughall right, after he saved you, Ruthie," Tom said. "Come on, now,Bobbins. Lend a hand with the poor dog."

  Tom had removed his coat and in that, for a blanket, they carriedReno through the woods to the camp. It was a hard journey, for inplaces the snow had drifted and was quite soft. But in less than anhour they arrived at the lodge.

  The men had come in with the wood by that time, and Mr. Cameron withthem. Mrs. Murchiston and the girls were greatly worried over Ruth'sabsence and the absence, too, of the three boys. But the death of thecatamount, and the safety of
all, quickly put a better face upon thesituation.

  Ruth was praised a good bit for her bravery. And Mr. Cameron said:

  "There's something in that poor boy whom we tried to return to hisfriends--if the Hatfields _are_ his friends. He does not lackcourage, that is sure--courage of a certain kind, anyway. I must seeto his business soon. I believe the Hatfields live within twentymiles of this place, and in a day or two I will ride over and seethem."

  "Oh! let us all go, father," urged Helen. "Can't we go in thesleighs we came over in from Scarboro?"

  "Don't take them, sir," said Mrs. Murchiston. "I shan't feel safefor them again until we get out of these woods."

  "Why, Mis' Murchiston," drawled Long Jerry, who had come into thehall with a great armful of wood, "there ain't a mite of danger now.That panther's killed--deader'n last Thanksgivin's turkey. There maynot be another around here for half a score of years."

  "But they say there are bears in the woods," cried the governess.

  "Aw, shucks!" returned the woodsman. "What's a b'ar? B'ar's isus'ally as skeery as rabbits, unless they are mighty hungry. And yedon't often meet a hungry bear this time o' year. They are mostlyhoused up for the winter in some warm hole."

  "But what would these girls do if they met a bear, Mr. Todd?" askedMr. Cameron, laughing.

  "Why, this here leetle Ruth Fielding gal, _she'd_ have pluckenough to shoot him, I reckon," chuckled Long Jerry. "And shewouldn't be the first girl that's shot a full growed b'ar right inthis neighborhood."

  "I thought you said there wasn't any around here, Jerry?" cried Helen.

  "This happened some time ago, Miss," returned the woodsman. "And ithappened right over yon at Bill Bennett's farm--not four mile fromhere. Sally Bennett was a plucky one, now I tell ye. And pretty--wal,I was a jedge of female loveliness in them days," went on Long Jerry,with a sly grin. "Ye see, I was lookin' 'em all over, tryin' to makeup my mind which one of the gals I should pick for my partner throughlife. And Sally was about the best of the bunch."

  "Why didn't you pick her then?" asked Tom.

  "She got in her hand pickin' first," chuckled Jerry. "And she pickeda feller from town. Fac' is, I was so long a-pickin' that I never gotnary wife at all, so have lived all my life an old bachelder."

  "But let's hear about Sally and the bear," proposed Ruth, eagerly,knowing what a resourceful story-teller Long Jerry was.

  "Come Jerry, sit down and let's have it," agreed Mr. Cameron, andthe party of young folk drew up chairs, before the fire. Long Jerrysquatted down in his usual manner on the hearth, and the story wasbegun.