Ruth Fielding and the Gypsies; Or, The Missing Pearl Necklace Read online

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  HE PUSHED RUTH ROUGHLY BACK INTO HER SEAT. Page 123]

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  RUTH FIELDINGAND THE GYPSIES

  OrThe Missing Pearl Necklace

  ByALICE B. EMERSON

  Author of "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,""Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch," etc.

  Illustrated

  New YorkCUPPLES & LEON COMPANYPublishers

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  Books for Girls

  By ALICE B. EMERSON

  RUTH FIELDING SERIES

  12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.Price per volume, 40 cents, postpaid.

  RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL Or, Jasper Parloe's Secret.

  RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL Or, Solving the Campus Mystery.

  RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP Or, Lost in the Backwoods.

  RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT Or, Nita, the Girl Castaway.

  RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH Or, Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys.

  RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND Or, The Old Hunter's Treasure Box.

  RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM Or, What Became of the Raby Orphans.

  RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES Or, The Missing Pearl Necklace.

  Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York.

  Copyright, 1915, byCupples & Leon Company

  Ruth Fielding and the Gypsies.

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  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE

  I. On the Lumano River 1 II. Roberto, the Gypsy 10 III. Evening at the Red Mill 19 IV. The Auto Tour 27 V. A Prophecy Fulfilled 37 VI. A Transaction in Mutton 43 VII. Fellow Travelers 53 VIII. What Was It All About? 61 IX. Queen Zelaya 69 X. In the Gypsy Camp 80 XI. Tom on the Trail 91 XII. A Break for Liberty 104 XIII. Ruth in the Toils 111 XIV. Roberto Again 116 XV. Helen's Escape 124 XVI. Through the Night and the Storm 133 XVII. Off for School Again 140 XVIII. Getting Into Harness 149 XIX. Can It Be Possible? 156 XX. He Cannot Talk 164 XXI. Ruth Intercedes 169 XXII. A Great Temptation 175 XXIII. Nettie Parsons' Feast 182 XXIV. Roberto Finds His Voice 190 XXV. Five Thousand Dollars 198

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  RUTH FIELDING AND THE GYPSIES

  CHAPTER I

  ON THE LUMANO RIVER

  The steady turning of the grinding-stones set the old Red Mill a-quiverin every board and beam. The air within was full of dust--dust of thegrain, and fine, fine dust from the stones themselves.

  Uncle Jabez Potter, the miller, came to the door and looked across thegrassy yard that separated the mill and the farmhouse attached from thehighroad. Under a broad-spreading tree sat two girls, busy with theirneedles.

  One, a sharp-faced, light-haired girl, who somehow carried a look ofendured pain in her eyes in spite of the smile she flung at the old man,cried:

  "Hello, Dusty Miller! come out and fly about a little. It will do yougood."

  The grim face of the miller lightened perceptibly. "How do you reckon aman like me kin fly, Mercy child?" he croaked.

  "I'll lend you my aeroplanes, if you like," she returned, gaily, andheld up the two ebony canes which had been hidden by the tall grass._They_ told the story of Mercy Curtis' look of pain, but once she hadhad to hobble on crutches and, as she pluckily declared, canes were"miles better than crutches."

  "I ain't got no time, gals, an' that's a fac'," said the miller, hisface clouding suddenly. "Ain't ye seen hide nor hair of Ben an' themmules?"

  "Why, Uncle," said the second girl, quietly, "you know how many errandsBen had to do in town. He couldn't do them all and get back in so shorta time."

  "I dunno about that, Niece Ruth--I dunno about that," said the old man,sharply. "Seems ter me I could ha' gone an' been back by now. An' higuy! there's four sacks o' flour to take acrost the river to TimLakeby--an' I kyan't do it by meself--Ben knows that. Takes two' on uster handle thet punt 'ith the river runnin' like she is right now."

  The girl who had last spoken folded the work in her lap and got upagilely. Her movements were followed--perhaps a little enviously--by thegaze of the lame girl.

  "How quick you are, Ruthie," she said. When Ruth Fielding looked downupon Mercy Curtis, her smile started an answering one upon the lamegirl's thin face.

  "Quick on my feet, dearie," said Ruth. "But you have so much quicker amind."

  "Flatterer!" returned the other, yet the smile lingered upon the thinface and made it the sweeter.

  The miller was turning, grumblingly, back into the shadowy interior ofthe mill, when Ruth hailed him.

  "Oh, Uncle!" she cried. "Let me help you."

  "What's that?" he demanded, wheeling again to look at her from under hisshaggy eyebrows.

  Now, Ruth Fielding was worth looking at. She was plump, but not tooplump; and she was quick in her movements, while her lithe and gracefulfigure showed that she possessed not only health, but great vitality.Her hair was of a beautiful bright brown color, was thick, and curledjust a little.

  In her tanned cheeks the blood flowed richly--the color came and wentwith every breath she drew, it seemed, at times. That was when she wasexcited. But ordinarily she was of a placid temperament, and her browneyes were as deep as wells. She possessed the power of lookingsearchingly and calmly at one without making her glance eitherimpertinent or bold.

  In her dark skirt, middy blouse, and black stockings and low shoes, shemade a pretty picture as she stood under the tree, although herfeatures were none of them perfect. Her cheeks were perhaps a littletoo round; her nose--well, it was not a dignified nose at all! And hermouth was generously large, but the teeth gleaming behind her red lipswere even and white, and her smile lit up her whole face in a mostengaging manner.

  "Do let me help you, Uncle. I know I can," she repeated, as the oldmiller scowled at her.

  "What's that?" he said again. "Go with me in that punt to Tim Lakeby's?"

  "Why not?"

  "'Tain't no job for a gal, Niece Ruth," grumbled the miller.

  "Any job is all right for a girl--if she can do it," said Ruth, happily."And I can row, Uncle--you know I can."

  "Ha! rowing one o' them paper-shell skiffs of Cameron's _one_ thing; theash oars to my punt ain't for baby's han's," growled the miller.

  "Do let me try, Uncle Jabez," said Ruth again, when the lame girl brokein with:

  "You are an awfully obstinate old Dusty Miller! Why don't you own upthat Ruthie's more good to you than a dozen boys would be?"

  "She ain't!" snarled the old man.

  At that moment there appeared upon the farm
house porch a little, bentold woman who hailed them in a shrill, sweet voice:

  "What's the matter, gals? What's the matter, Jabez? Ain't nothin' brokedown, hez there?"

  "No, Aunt Alvirah," laughed Ruth. "I just want Uncle Jabez to let mehelp him----"

  The old woman had started down the steps, her hand upon her back as shecame, and intoning in a low voice: "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!" Shecaught up the miller's remark, as he turned away again, very sharply,for he muttered something about "Silly gals' foolish idees."

  "What d'ye mean by that, Jabez Potter?" she demanded. "If Ruth says shekin help ye, she _kin_. You oughter know that by this time."

  "Help me row that punt across the river?" snarled the old man,wrathfully. "What nonsense!"

  "I dunno," said the old woman, slowly. "I see Tim's flag a-flyin'. Iguess he wants his flour bad."

  "And I can pull an oar as good as _you_ can, Uncle Jabez," added Ruth.

  "Oh, all right! Come on, then. I see I shell hev no peace till I let yetry it. Ef we don't git back fer supper, don't blame _me_, Alviry."

  The miller disappeared in the gathering gloom of the mill. Soon thejarring of the structure and the hum of the stones grewslower--slower--slower, and finally the machinery was altogether still.

  Ruth had run for her hat. Then, waving her hand to Mercy and AuntAlvirah, she ran around to the landing.

  The Lumano River was a wide stream, but at this season of the year itwas pretty shallow. There was little navigation from Lake Osago at anytime, but now the channel was dotted with dangerous rocks, and therewere even more perilous reefs just under the surface.

  Uncle Jabez's boat was not really a "punt." It was a heavy rowboat, sostained and waterlogged in appearance that it might have been taken fora bit of drift-stuff that had been brought in to the Red Mill landing bythe current.

  And truly, that is probably the means by which the miller had originallyobtained the boat. He was of a miserly nature, was Uncle Jabez Potter,and the old boat--which its first owner had never considered worthcoming after, following some spring freshet--served the miller wellenough to transport his goods across the river.

  Tim Lakeby's store, on the north shore of the river, was in sight of theRed Mill. There were four sacks of flour to be transported, and alreadyUncle Jabez had placed two of them in the bottom of the boat, upon aclean tarpaulin.

  "Ef we go down the river an' swamp, I shell lose this flour," grumbledUncle Jabez. "Drat that Ben! I tell ye, he'd ought to be hum by now."

  Ben was the hired man, and if the miller had not really been kindlierunderneath than he appeared on the surface, Ben would never haveremained as long with him as he had!

  Uncle Jabez balanced the weight in the boat with judgment. Althoughthere seemed to be no real danger, he knew very well the nature of thetreacherous current. Ruth slipped into the bow seat with her oar, andUncle Jabez took stroke.

  The girl unknotted the painter, and the boat drifted out from thelanding.

  "Now, set yer feet square, an' _pull_!" ejaculated her uncle, thrustingthe blade of his own oar beneath the rippling surface.

  They were heavy ash oars--one was all the girl really could manage. Butshe was not afraid of a little hard work, her muscles were supple, andshe had rowed one season in the first eight at Briarwood Hall, and soconsidered herself something of an oarswoman.

  The miller, by stretching to see over his shoulder, got the boat pointedin the right direction. "Pull, now!" he commanded, and set a long,forceful stroke for the girl to match. With the water slapping againstthe high side of the craft, sometimes sprinkling them with spray, theydrove her forward for some minutes in silence.

  The boat lumbered heavily, and it was true that Ruth had all she coulddo to manage the oars. In some places, where the eddies tugged at theblade, it seemed as though a submerged giant seized it and tried totwist it from her grasp!

  "I guess you air gittin' yer fill-up of it, Niece Ruth," growled themiller, with a sound in his throat that might have been a chuckle. "Lookout, now! ye'll hev us over."

  Ruth knew very well she had done nothing to give the boat that suddenjerk. It was the current; but she had no breath with which to argue thematter.

  On and on they pulled, while the sinking sun gilded the little wavelets,and bathed both river and the shores in golden glory. A homing birdshrieked a shrill "good-night," as it passed above them, flying fromshore to shore.

  Now the northern shore was nearer than the landing they had left. Onlyoccasionally Ruth turned her head, for she needed her full attentionupon the oar which she managed with such difficulty.

  "We gotter p'int up-stream," growled Uncle Jabez, after wringing hisneck around again to spy out the landing near Lakeby's store. "Peskycurrent's kerried us too fur down."

  He gave a mighty pull to his own oar to rehead the boat. It was aperilous move, and in a perilous place. Here the water ran, troubled andwhite-capped, over a hidden reef.

  "Oh! do be careful, Uncle!" cried Ruth.

  "Pull!" yelled the old man, in return.

  By chance he sunk his own oar-blade so deeply, that it rubbed againstthe reef. It lifted Uncle Jabez from his seat, and unbalanced the boat.

  Like a flash the heavy oar flew out of its socket, and the old mansprawled on his back in the bottom of the boat. The latter whirledaround in the current, and before Ruth could scream, even, it crashedbroadside upon the rock!

  The rotting planks of the boat could not stand such a blow. Ruth saw theplank cave in, and the water followed. Down the boat settled upon thesubmerged part of the rock--a hopeless wreck!

  This was not the worst of the accident. In seeking to recover his seat,Uncle Jabez went overboard, as the old boat tipped. He dove into theshallow water, and struck his head heavily on the reef.

  Blood-stained bubbles rose to the surface, and the old man struggledonly feebly to rise.

  "He is hurt! he will be drowned!" gasped Ruth, and seeing him sohelpless, she sprang nimbly over the canted side of the boat and soughtto draw her uncle's head out of the water.

  Although she was a good swimmer, and was not afraid of the water, thecurrent was so swift, and her own footing so unstable, it was doubtfulif Ruth Fielding could save both the miller and herself from the perilthat menaced them.