CHAPTER XV--RUTH IN DANGER
Hugh, looking much embarrassed, came up early next morning to see Ruth.
"I have an invitation to deliver to you, Ruth, but I am rather ashamedto do it, for I am afraid you will be angry. Mother told me to come overand ask Miss Stuart and yourself and the girls--except Barbara--to comeout with us for the day on the yacht."
"Why, Hugh Post!" cried Ruth. "What do you mean?"
"Well, it's like this," Hugh said, desperately; "mother told me toexplain to you exactly how things stand, so you will not think her rude.You see, mother is visiting Mrs. Erwin, and of course Mrs. Erwin,Gladys, and her devoted Harry Townsend have to go along on the yachtwith us. Well, Gladys told mother that neither she nor Mr. Townsendcould go if Barbara went. Gladys would not tell mother why, and, as youtold me to keep that scene in the conservatory a secret, I didn't knowwhat it was wisest for me to do."
"Thank you," Ruth answered; "but tell your mother that none of us canaccept."
"O Ruth!" exclaimed Hugh. "I am fearfully disappointed, and mother Iknow will be angry."
"I am afraid I don't care, Hugh," was Ruth's reply. "I don't like yourmother's inviting any of us, if she had to leave Bab out."
As Hugh turned to leave the front porch, where he had found Ruth alone,she called after him: "Wait a minute, please. I don't know what to tellAunt Sallie. Your mother will be sure to speak to her of her invitation,and Auntie will think I should have let her refuse for herself. Oh, Iknow!"
Ruth's face cleared. "I will go tell Aunt Sallie that she and Grace andMollie are asked. I'll stay with my dear Bab," she finished a littledefiantly. "If I am also left out of the party, no one will thinkanything of it."
"Oh, I say, Ruth," Hugh urged, "please come."
"Sorry," she said, shaking her head decidedly.
"I expect you're right," Hugh replied.
Miss Sallie, Mollie and Grace accepted Mrs. Post's invitation withpleasure. As Mrs. Post's yacht was small, they did not think it strangethat the other two girls were left out.
How angry Mollie would have been, had she guessed the truth. Not a stepwould she have gone. As it was, she begged Barbara to go in her place.
But Bab was too clever. She understood what had happened, and was gladto be left out of the party. She put her arm around Ruth's waist,whispering coaxingly: "Do go along with the others, old story-teller.You know you were asked."
Ruth shook her head decidedly. "Not on your life," she slangilyretorted. Fortunately, Miss Sallie did not hear her.
"What shall we do this afternoon, Bab?" inquired Ruth after luncheon."Suppose you and I go for a long walk?"
"Don't think I am a lazy good-for-nothing, Ruth," Barbara begged, "but Ihave a little headache, and I must write to mother. Mollie and I havebeen neglecting her shamefully of late. I haven't even written her aboutthe wonderful ball."
"Are you going to tell her what happened, Bab?" Ruth inquired.
"I suppose so," sighed Bab. She was half inclined to discuss theunfortunate affair with Ruth, but changed her mind.
"Well, Bab," Ruth declared, "I shall go for the walk 'all by mylonesomes.' I'll be back in time for dinner. The others are to dine onthe yacht, so we need not look for them until bedtime. I think I'll takethe cliff walk, for the sea is so splendid to-day."
Left alone, Barbara got out her writing materials and sat down by thewindow, but she did not begin to write.
"I wonder," she asked herself, "why we have been mixed up in burglariesever since Ruth began talking about our trip to Newport? First, our poorlittle twenty-dollar gold-pieces disappear; then we have that dreadfulrobber at New Haven. Now Mrs. Post's emerald necklace is stolen! Itcould not all have been Mr. Townsend!" Barbara sat with her handsclenched.
"If it is true," she went on, "and I saw the necklace disappear with myown eyes, then we have another Raffles to deal with. Mr. Raffles, thesecond! I believe I am the only person that suspects him. Well, Mr.Harry Townsend!" Barbara's red lips tightened, "you are successful now,but we shall see whose wits are better, yours or mine!"
Barbara's face turned a deep crimson. "I understood. He wanted tosuggest I was the thief. Only he didn't dare to accuse me openly theother night. I won't tell mother," Barbara at last decided. "I'll justwatch--and wait!"
Barbara wrote her mother a long, happy letter, without a hint of thetroubles she began to feel closing in on her. Then she straightened herown and Mollie's bureau drawers and arranged their clothes in the twoclosets. Still Ruth did not come.
Twice Barbara went into her room. It was half past five--six--Mrs. Ewing'searly dinner was served at half after six.
"Mrs. Ewing," Barbara said, knocking timidly at her door. "Have you seenanything of Ruth? She has been gone such a long time that I am worriedabout her."
But Mrs. Ewing knew nothing of her.
"I believe I'll go to meet her," said Barbara, "and hurry her along. Shemust be on her way home." Ralph was on the yacht with Hugh, or Barbarawould have asked him to accompany her.
For the first half mile along the cliff walk Barbara strolled slowly,expecting every moment to see Ruth hurrying along. As the walk dippeddown into hollows and rose again in the high places, it was difficult tosee any distance ahead.
The walk was entirely deserted, and Bab's heart commenced to beat fasteras the darkness began to gather.
"I suppose," thought Barbara, "Ruth has gone somewhere to make a visit,and has stayed late without thinking. She's probably at home, now,waiting for me, so I'll get the scolding from Mrs. Ewing for being lateto dinner. I believe I'll go on back home." Barbara actually turned andstarted in the opposite direction.
Something within her seemed to call: "Bab! Bab!" The voice was so urgentshe was frightened. "Ruth needs you," it seemed to say.
Bab began calling aloud, "Ruth! Ruth!" Her voice sounded high and shrillin her own ears; but only the echo answered her, and the noise of thewaves pounding against the shore. She could see the distant lights inthe houses along the way, but Barbara dared not stop to ask for helpwhile that inner voice urged her on.
Barbara was running, now, along the narrow, difficult path. "O Ruth,dear Ruth!" she cried. "Why don't you answer me? Are you anywhere,needing me?" She heard a low sound and stopped. Nothing but her ownimagination! There were always queer noises along the cliff shore, wherethe water swirled into little eddies and gurgled out again.
Barbara waited. She heard nothing more, so she plunged on. Suddenly shedrew back with a gasp of horror. Part of the cliff walk had disappeared!Where a bridge of stone had spanned a narrow chasm there was a terrible,yawning hole. Jutting out their vicious arms were rocks, rocks, forminga sheer drop of seventy feet to the beach below.
Involuntarily, Barbara had flung herself down on her hands and knees tokeep from falling over into the abyss.
"Ruth couldn't have," she thought. "No, no!" But hark! Was that againthe low moaning sound of the waters? Barbara lay flat on the rocks,stretching her head over the embankment. There, in a cleft between twogreat rocks, fifteen feet below her, a dark object hung!
"Ruth! Ruth!" Bab called, her voice coming from her throat in a hoarsecry. Again she heard the faint moan. This time she knew the sound. Itwas Ruth! What could she do? Run for help? Any second, Bab realized,Ruth's strength might fail, and she would let go her grasp. Barbaracould not bear to think of the horrible end.
As far as she could see, Ruth's feet rested on a narrow ledge of rock,while she clung with her hands to a cliff that jutted out overhead."Ruth! Ruth!" Barbara called again, but this time her voice was clearand strong. "It is Bab! Do you understand? Hold on a little longer. I amcoming."
Swiftly a prayer came into Barbara's mind: "Lord, show me the way." Yeteven while she prayed she acted. "Help, help!" Bab called out.
Barbara Lay Flat on the Rocks.]
She tore off the long woolen shawl which she had wrapped round her whenshe came out to seek Ruth. With hands that seemed to gain a superhumanstrength Bab tore it into three, four strips. S
he dared not make thestrips narrower for fear they would not hold. Then she took off herskirt of light wool and wrenched it into broad bands. How, Barbara neverknew. She felt that the power was given her.
Growing out from a rock between Bab and the moaning figure on the cliffbelow was a small tree, its roots deeply imbedded in the hard soil. Ruthhad evidently reached out to grasp this tree as the cliff bridge gaveway beneath her feet; but, missing it, her feet had touched a ledge ofrock and she had flung out her arms and clasped the stone above her. Howmuch longer would her failing strength serve her?
Bab again lay down and measured the length of her queer rope. She foundthat by reaching the tree she could tie the rope to it and it would thenbe long enough to extend to Ruth. Removing her shoes, Barbara slowly,and with infinite caution, crawled down the jagged rocks, clinging withher hands and toes. Finally she arrived at the tree, and fastened herrope securely around it, only to find it dangled just above Ruth's head.Yet what was the use? If Ruth for an instant let go the rock to whichshe clung her feet would slip from the ledge, and Bab's poor woolenstrings could never hold her.
But Barbara understood this. She was face to face with the great momentof her life, and, though she was only a simple country girl, neither herbrains nor her strength failed her.
Did she stop at the tree after the rope was tied? No! Still clinging,sliding, her hands bruised and bleeding, Barbara was making her way towhere Ruth hung. Bab had said truly that she could climb. Never had agirl a better opportunity to prove her boast! There were moments whenshe believed she could not go on. Then the thought of Ruth renewed hercourage.
Just above Ruth's head, on the left side of her, was a great boulderwith a curved, smooth surface. It was to this rock Bab made her way. Shewas so close to Ruth now that she could lean over and touch her."Courage, dear," she whispered, and she thought she saw Ruth's pale lipssmile. She had not fainted; for this, Barbara was grateful.
When Barbara was a little girl her mother had been ashamed of her tomboyways; but she had given in, with a gentle sigh, when Bab grew andflourished by playing boys' games, by learning various boyish arts;among them was the knack of tying a sailor knot.
Edging closer and closer to Ruth she managed to reach out and catch holdof the rope she had fastened to the tree. With one hand on her own rock,with the other she drew the cord about Ruth, fastening it firmly underher arms. The rope was not strong enough to draw Ruth up to safety, butit would steady her should her hands give way.
Somehow, in some way, Barbara must get further help.
Now that her first duty was over, she began to call loudly: "Help,help!" Her shouts roused Ruth, who joined feebly in the cry. No soundanswered them. Only the seagulls swept over them, uttering their hoarsecall.
Barbara felt her own strength going. She tried to crawl up the slipperyrock again, but her power was gone. She, too, felt herself--slipping,slipping! With one wild cry she caught at her rock, and all was still!
Automobile Girls at Newport; Or, Watching the Summer Parade Page 15