Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill; Or, Jasper Parloe's Secret

by Alice B. Emerson

and overflowing the lowlands behind theautomobile.

  Ahead of them now upon the road there was a single foot-passenger--aman carrying a heavy basket. He seemed so far from the higher ground,and so determined to keep to the road, that Ruth cried out and laidher hand upon Helen's arm. The latter nodded and shut off the engineso that the automobile ran down and almost stopped by this pedestrian.

  "Here, you!" shouted Tom, from the tonneau. "Get in here quick!There's no time to lose!"

  Much of what he said was lost in the roaring of the waters; but thefellow understood him well enough, and scrambled into the car with hisbasket. It was Jasper Parloe, and the old man was shaking as withpalsy.

  "My goodness gracious!" he croaked, falling back in the seat as thecar darted away again. "Ain't this awful? Ain't this jest awful?"

  He was too scared, one would have supposed, to think of much else thanthe peril of the flood sweeping the valley behind them; yet he staredup at Tom Cameron again and again as the auto hurried them on towardthe safety of the higher ground about the Red Mill, and there wassomething very sly in his look.

  "Ye warn't hurt so bad then, arter all, was ye, Master Cameron?" hecroaked.

  "I reckon I shall live to get over it," returned the boy, shortly.

  "But no thanks to Jabe Potter--heh? Ha! I know, I know!"

  Tom stared in return angrily, but the old man kept shaking his headand smiling up at him slily and in such a significant way that, hadthe boy not been so disturbed by what was going on behind them, hecertainly would have demanded to know what the old fellow meant.

  But the car was getting close to the long hill that mounted to thecrest on which the Red Mill stood. How much better would it have beenfor Jabez Potter and all concerned had he taken Doctor Davison'sadvice and let out the water behind his dam! But now he was not evenat home to do anything before the thousands upon thousands of tons ofwater from the Minturn reservoir swept through the Red Mill dam.

  They saw the foaming, yellow water spread over the country behindthem; but within half a mile of the mill it gathered into narrowercompass again because of the nature of the land, and the wave grewhigher as it rushed down upon Potter's dam. The motor car puffed upthe hill and halted before the mill door.

  "Will we be safe here, Tom?" cried Helen, as pale as a ghost now, buttoo brave to give way. "Are we safe?"

  "We're all right, I believe," said Tom.

  Jasper Parloe was already out of the car and ran into the mill. Onlythe hired man was there, and he came to the door with a face whiterthan it was naturally made by the flour dust.

  "Come in, quick!" he cried to the young people. "This mill can't go--it's too solid."

  Beyond the Red Mill the ground was low again; had the Camerons triedto keep on the road for home the flood would have overtaken the car.And to take the road that branched off for Cheslow would haveendangered the car, too. In a few seconds the knoll on which the millstood was an island!

  The girls and Tom ran indoors. They could hardly hear each other shoutduring the next few minutes. The waters rose and poured over the dam,and part of it was swept out. Great waves beat upon the river-wall ofthe mill. And then, with a tearing crash of rent timbers and masonry,the front of the little office and the storeroom, built out over theriver, was torn away.

  From that quarter Jasper Parloe ran, yelling wildly. Ruth saw him dartout of the far door of the mill, stooping low and with his coat overhis head as though he expected the whole structure to fall about hisears.

  But only that wall and the loading platform for the boats were slicedoff by the flood. Then the bulk of the angry waters swept past,carrying all sorts of debris before it, and no farther harm was doneto the mill, or to Mr. Potter's other buildings.

  CHAPTER XI

  UNCLE JABEZ IS EXCITED

  So rapidly had all this taken place that the girls had remained in themill. But now Ruth, crying: "Aunt Alvirah will be frightened to death,Helen!" led the way down the long passage and through the shed intothe kitchen porch. The water on this side of the building had swept upthe road and actually into the yard; but the automobile stood in apuddle only and was not injured.

  Aunt Alviry was sitting in her rocker by the window. The old woman wasvery pale and wan. She had her Bible open on her knees and her lipstrembled in a smile of welcome when the girls burst into the room.

  "Oh, my dears! my dears!" she cried. "I am so thankful to see you bothsafe!" She started to rise, and the old phrase came to her lips: "Oh,my back and oh, my bones!"

  Then she rose and hobbled across the room. Her bright little, birdlikeeyes, that had never yet known spectacles, had seen something up theCheslow road.

  "Who's this a-coming? For the land's sake, what recklessness! Is thatJabez and his mules, Ruthie? Bless us and save us! what's he going totry and do?"

  The two girls ran to the door. Down the hill thundered a farm wagondrawn by a pair of mules, said mules being on the dead run while theirdriver stood in the wagon and snapped his long, blacksnake whip overtheir ears. Such a descent of the hill was reckless enough in anycase; but now, at the foot, rolled the deep water. It had washed awaya little bridge that spanned what was usually a rill, but the banks ofthis stream being overflowed for yards on either side, the channel wasat least ten feet deep.

  It was Jabez Potter driving so recklessly down the hill from Cheslow.

  "Oh, oh!" screamed the old lady. "Jabez will be killed! Oh, my backand oh, my bones! Oh, deary, deary me!"

  She had crossed the porch and was hobbling down the steps. Herrheumatic twinges evidently caused her excruciating pain, but the fearshe felt for the miller's safety spurred her to get as far as thefence. And there Ruth and Helen kept her from splashing into the muddywater that covered the road.

  "You can do no good, Aunt Alvirah!" cried Ruth.

  "The mules are not running away with him, Mrs. Boggs," urged Helen.

  "They'll kill him! He's crazy! It's his money--the poor, poor man!"

  It was evident that Aunt Alvirah read the miller's excitement aright.Ruth remembered the cash-box and wondered if it had been left in themill while her uncle went to Cheslow? However that might be, herattention--indeed, the attention of everybody about the mill--washeld by the reckless actions of Mr. Potter.

  It was not fifteen minutes after the wave had hit the mill and tornaway a part of the outer office wall and the loading platform, orwharf, when the racing mules came down to the turbulent stream thatlay between the Cheslow road and the Red Mill. The frightened animalswould have balked at the stream, but the miller, still standing in thewagon, coiled the whip around his head and then lashed out with it,laying it, like a tongue of living fire, across the mules' backs.

  They were young animals and they had been unused, until this day, tothe touch of the blacksnake. They leaped forward with almost forceenough to break out of their harness, but landing in the deep waterwith the wagon behind them. So far out did they leap that they wentcompletely under and the wagon dipped until the body was full ofwater.

  But there stood the miller, upright and silent, plying the whip whenthey came to the surface, and urging them on. Ruth had noticed beforethis that Uncle Jabez was not cruel to his team, or to his otheranimals; but this was actual brutality.

  However, the mules won through the flood. The turgid stream was notwide and it was not a long fight. But there was the peril of mules,wagon and man being swept out into the main stream of the flood andcarried over the dam.

  "He is awful! awful!" murmured Helen, in Ruth's ear, as they clungtogether and watched the miller and his outfit come through and themules scramble out upon solid ground.

  The miller had brought his half-mad team to the mill and pulled themules down right beside the Cameron's automobile. Already the youngfellow who worked for him had flown out of the mill to Jabez'sassistance. He seized the frightened mules by their bits.

  "How much has gone, boy?" cried Jabez, in a strained, hoarse voice.

  "Not much, boss. Only a part of the office an'--"


  The miller was already in at the door. In a moment, it seemed, he wasback again, having seen the damage done by the flood to his building.But that damage was comparatively slight. It should not have causedthe old man to display such profound despair.

  He wrung his hands, tore off his hat and stamped upon it on the walk,and behaved in such a manner that it was little wonder Helen Cameronwas vastly frightened. He seemed beside himself with rage and despair.

  Ruth, herself torn by conflicting emotions, could not bear to see theold man so convulsed with what seemed to be anguish of spirit, withoutoffering her sympathy. During this week that she had been at the RedMill it could not be said that she had gained Uncle Jabez'sconfidence--that she had drawn close to him at all. But it was notfor a will on her part to do so.

  The girl now left Aunt Alvirah and Helen on the porch and walkedstraight down to the old man. She was beside him, with a hand upon hisarm, before he was aware of her coming.

  He stared at her so angrily--with such an expression of rage andhopelessness upon his face--that she was held speechless for amoment.

  "What do you know about it, girl?" he demanded, hoarsely.

  "About what, Uncle?" she returned.

  "The box--the cash-box--my money!" he cried, in a low voice. "Do youknow anything about it? Was it saved?"

  "Oh, Uncle! We only got here in the automobile just in time to escapethe flood. The office was wrecked at that very moment. Was the boxthere?"

  "Gone! Gone!" he murmured, shaking his head; and turning on his heel,he strode into the mill.

  The boy had taken the mules around to the stable. Ruth hesitated, thenfollowed the old man into the mill. There Jabez confronted TomCameron, sitting on a sack of meal and watching the turbid watersfalling over the dam.

  "Ha! Young Cameron," muttered Uncle Jabez. "You didn't see thecash-box, of course?"

  "Where was it?" asked Tom, quietly.

  "In that office--on a shelf, with an old coat thrown over it. Ibelieved it to be as safe there as in the house with nobody but an oldwoman to guard it."

  "Better put your money in the bank, sir," said Tom, coolly.

  "And have some sleek and oily scoundrel steal it, eh?" snarled UncleJabez.

  "Well, the water stole it, I reckon," Tom said. "I'm sorry for you ifthere was much money in the box. But I know nothing about it. JasperParloe might have saved the box had he known about it; he was overthere by the office when the water tore away the wall."

  "Jasper Parloe!" ejaculated Uncle Jabez, starting. "Was he here?"

  "He wasn't here long," chuckled Tom. "He thought the mill was goingand he lit out in a hurry."

  Uncle Jabez made another despairing gesture and walked away. Ruthfollowed him and her hands closed upon the toil-hardened fist clenchedat his side.

  "I'm sorry, Uncle," she whispered.

  He suddenly stared down at her.

  "There! I believe you be, child. But your being sorry can't help itnone. The money's gone--hard it come and it's hard to part with inthis way."

  "Was it a large sum, Uncle?"

  "All the ready cash I had in the world. Every cent I owned. That boysaid, put it in a bank. I lost money when the Cheslow Bank failedforty year ago. I don't get caught twice in the same trap--no, sir!I've lost more this time; but no dishonest blackleg will have thebenefit of it, that's sure. The river's got it, and nobody will everbe a cent the better off for it. All! All gone!"

  He jerked his hand away from Ruth's sympathetic pressure and walkedmoodily away.

  CHAPTER XII

  THE CATASTROPHE

  This was the beginning of some little confidence between Ruth andUncle Jabez. He had not been quite so stern and unbending, even in hispassion, as before. He said nothing more about the lost cash-box--Aunt Alviry dared not even broach the subject--but Ruth tried to showhim in quiet ways that she was sorry for his loss.

  Uncle Jabez was not a gentle man, however; his voice being so seldomheard did not make it the less rough and passionate. There were timeswhen, because of his black looks, Ruth did not even dare address him.And there was one topic she longed to address him upon very muchindeed. She wanted to go to school.

  She had always been quick at her books, and had stood well in thegraded school of Darrowtown. There was a schoolhouse up the road fromthe Red Mill--not half a mile away; this district school was a verygood one and the teacher had called on Aunt Alvirah and Ruth liked hervery much.

  The flood had long since subsided and the repairs to the mill and thedam were under way. Uncle Jabez grew no more pleasant, however, forthe freshet had damaged his dam so that all the water had to be letout and he might go into midsummer with such low pressure behind thedam that he could not run the mill through the drouth. Thispossibility, together with the loss of the cash-box, made him--evenAunt Alvirah admitted--"like a dog with a sore head." NeverthelessRuth determined to speak to him about the school.

  She chose an evening when the kitchen was particularly bright andhomelike and her uncle had eaten his supper as though he very muchenjoyed it. There was no cash-box for him to be absorbed in now; butevery evening he made countless calculations in an old ledger which hetook to bed with him with as much care as he had the money-box.

  Before he opened his ledger on this evening, however, Ruth stoodbeside him and put a hand upon his arm.

  "Uncle," she said, bravely, "can I go to school?"

  He stared at her directly for a moment, from under his heavy brows;but her own gaze never wavered.

  "How much schoolin' do you want?" he demanded, harshly.

  "If you please Uncle Jabez, all I can get," replied Ruth.

  "Ha! Readin', writin', an' mighty little 'rithmatic--we called 'em'the three R's '--did for me when I was a boy. The school tax theyput onto me ev'ry year is something wicked. And I never had chick norchild to go to their blamed old school."

  "Let me go, Uncle, and so get some of your money back that way," Ruthsaid, quickly, and smiling in her little, birdlike way with her headon one side.

  "Ha! I don't know about that," he growled, shaking his head. "I don'tsee what I'll be makin' out of it."

  "Perhaps I can help you later, if you'll let me learn enough," sheurged. "I can learn enough arithmetic to keep your books. I'll tryreal hard."

  "I don't know about that," he said, again, eyeing her suspiciously."The little money I make I kin keep watch of--when I'm here to watchit, that is. There ain't no book-keeping necessary in my business. Andthen--there's your Aunt Alviry. She needs you."

  "Don't you go for to say that, Jabez," interposed the old woman,briskly. "That child's the greatest help that ever was; but she can doall that's necessary before and arter school, and on Saturdays. She'sa good smart child, Jabez. Let her have a chance to l'arn."

  "Ain't no good ever come of books," muttered the miller.

  "Oh, Uncle! Just let me show you," begged the girl, in her earnestnessclinging to his arm with both hands.

  He looked down for a moment at her hands as though he would fling offher hold. But he thought better of it, and waited fully a minutebefore he spoke.

  "You know your Aunt Alviry needs ye," he said. "If you kin fix it withher, why I don't see as I need object."

  "Will it be too much trouble for you to get my trunk, Uncle, so that Ican begin going to school next week?" Ruth asked.

  "Ain't you got nothin' to wear to school?" he said. "It's dress; isit? Beginning that trouble airly; ain't ye?"

  He seemed to be quite cross again, and the girl looked at him insurprise.

  "Dear Uncle! You will get the trunk from the station, won't you?"

  "No I won't," he said. "Because why? Because I can't."

  "You can't?" she gasped, and even Aunt Alvirah looked startled.

  "That's what I said."

  "Why--why can't you?" cried Ruth. "Has something happened to mytrunk?"

  "That's jest it--and it warn't no fault o' mine," said the miller. "Igot the trunk like I said I would and it was in the wagon when
we camedown the hill yonder.

  "Oh, oh!" gasped Ruth, her hands clasped. "You don't mean when you ranthe mules into the water, Uncle?"

  "I had to get to my mill. I didn't know what was being done overhere," he said, uglily. "And didn't I lose enough? What's the loss ofsome old rags, and a trunk, 'side of my money?"

  He said it with such force, and with so angry a gesture, that sheshrank back from him. But her pain and disappointment were so strongthat she had to speak.

  "And the trunk was washed out of the wagon, Uncle Jabez? It's gone?"

  "That's what happened to it, I suppose," he grunted, and dropping hishead, opened the ledger and began to study the long lines of figuresthere displayed. Not a word to show that he was sorry for her loss. Noappreciation of the girl's pain and sorrow. He selfishly hugged to himthe misfortune of his own loss and gave no heed to Ruth.

  But Aunt Alvirah caught her hand as she passed swiftly. The old womancarried the plump little hand to her lips in mute sympathy, and thenRuth broke away even from her and ran upstairs to her room. There shecast herself upon the bed and, with her sobs smothered in the pillows,gave way to the grief that had long been swelling her heart to thebursting point.