Ruth Fielding at Snow Camp; Or, Lost in the Backwoods Page 4

  CHAPTER IV

  THE MYSTERIOUS BEHAVIOR OF FRED HATFIELD

  Uncle Jabez Potter came in from the mill after a time. He was agaunt, gray-faced man, who seldom smiled, and whose stern, ruggedcountenance had at first almost frightened Ruth whenever she lookedat it. But she had fortunately gotten under the crust of Mr. Potter'smanner and learned that there was something better there than theharsh surface the miller turned to all the world.

  Uncle Jabez hoarded money for the pleasure of hoarding it; but hehad been generous to Ruth, having put her at one of the best boardingschools in the State. He could be charitable at times, too; AuntAlvirah could testify to that fact. So could a certain little lamefriend of Ruth Fielding, Mercy Curtis, who was attending BriarwoodHall as the result of the combined charity of Uncle Jabez and Dr.Davison, of Cheslow.

  But it is said that "charity begins at home"; when charity begins ina man's very bed, that seems a little too near! At least, so Mr.Potter thought.

  "What's this I hear about a vagabond boy in my bed, Aunt Alviry?" hedemanded, when he came in.

  "The poor child!" said the old woman. "Oh, my back, and oh, mybones! Come in and see him, Jabez," she urged, hobbling toward thepassage.

  "No. Who is he? What is he here for? That Cameron talks so fast Inever can get the rights of what he's saying till afterward. Says theboy belongs up there where he wants to take Ruth to-morrow?"

  "He has run away from his home at Scarboro, Uncle," said Ruth.

  "Young villain! A widder's son, too!" said her uncle.

  "He says his father is dead," said Ruth, hesitating.

  "I venture to say!" exclaimed Jabez Potter. "And he's in my bed; ishe?"

  He came back to this as being a reason for objection.

  "Now, now, Jabez," said Aunt Alvirah, soothingly. "He ain't hurtedthe bed. He was wet--the coat frozen right on him--when they broughthim in. I had to git him atween blankets jest as quick as I could.And your bedroom isn't so cold as the rooms upstairs."

  "Well?" grunted Mr. Potter.

  "Before bedtime I'll make him up a couch in here near the fire andput your bed straight for you."

  "Young vagabond!" grunted Mr. Potter. "Don't know who he is. May robus before morning. Perhaps he come here for just that purpose."

  "That's not possible, Uncle," said Ruth, laughing. She told him thestory of their adventure with the bull and Fred Hatfield'sappearance. Yet all the time she looked worried herself. There wassomething troubling the girl of the Red Mill.

  Ruth took the tray into the bedroom with the supper that AuntAlvirah had prepared. There was a flaming red spot in the center ofeach of the boy's pallid cheeks, and his eyes were still bright. Hehad no little fever after the chill of his plunge into the creek. Butthe fever might have been as much from a mental as a physical cause.

  It was on Ruth's lips to ask the boy certain questions. Thatnewspaper clipping fairly burned in the bosom of her frock. But hissuppressed excitement warned her to be silent.

  He was hungry still. It was plain that he had been without properfood for some time. But in the midst of his appreciation of the mealhe asked Ruth, suddenly:

  "Wasn't there anything in that wallet when you gave it to that man,Miss?"

  "No," she replied, truthfully enough.

  "No. He didn't say there was," muttered the boy, and said notanother word.

  Ruth watched him eat. He did not raise his light eyes to her. Thecolor faded out of his cheeks. She knew that it was actual starvationthat kept him eating; but he was greatly troubled in his mind. Shewent back to her own supper, and remained very quiet all through theevening.

  Later Aunt Alvirah made up the couch with plenty of blankets andthick, downy "comforters," and when Ruth had gone to bed the boy cameout into the kitchen and left Uncle Jabez free to seek his ownrepose. But though the whole house slept, Ruth could not--at first.Long after it was still, and she knew Aunt Alvirah was asleep andUncle Jabez was snoring, Ruth arose, slipped on a warm wrapper andher slippers, and squeezing something tightly between her fingers,crept down the stairs to the kitchen door. She unlatched it softlyand let it swing open a couple of inches.

  There was a stir within. She waited, holding her breath. She heardthe couch creak. Then came the sound of a shuffling step.

  The moonlight lay in a broad band under the front window. Into thisradiance moved the figure of the vagabond boy, shrouded in a blanket.He came to the table and he felt around until he found the wallet. Hehad doubtless marked it lying there by the window before Aunt Alvirahhad put the lamp out and left him.

  He seized the wallet and opened it wide. He shook it over the table.Then Ruth heard him groan:

  "It's gone! it's gone!"

  He stood there, shaking, and dropped the leather case unnoticed. Forhalf a minute he stood there, uncertain and--Ruth thought--sobbingsoftly. Then the boy approached the garments hung upon the chairsabout the stove, wherein the coal fire was banked for the night.

  He stopped before he touched his underclothing. All these garmentswere well dried by this time; but Aunt Alvirah had wished them leftthere to be warm when he put them on in the morning. Ruth knewexactly what Fred Hatfield had in his mind. The vagabond boy wasdetermined to dress quietly and secretly leave the miller's house.

  But when Master Fred touched the first garment Ruth rattled the doorlatch ever so lightly. Fred stopped and turned fearfully in thatdirection. His lips parted. She could see that he was panting withfear.

  Ruth rattled the latch again. He ran back to his couch and plungedinto the comforters with a gasp. Ruth pulled the door quietly to andstood there, shivering in the dark, wondering what to do. She knewthat the boy had it in his mind to escape. She did not wish to arouseUncle Jabez. Nor did she wish the strange boy to depart so secretly.

  Mr. Cameron expected to find him here when he came in the morning,she was sure. Although Mr. Cameron only supposed him an ordinaryrunaway, and perhaps wished to advise him to return to his mother,Ruth knew well that Fred Hatfield's was no ordinary case ofvagabondage.

  Ruth hesitated on the stairs for some minutes. Uncle Jabez snored.There was no further movement from the boy on the couch.

  She was growing very cold. Ruth could not remain there on the stairsto guard the boy all night. Something desperate had to be done--andsomething very desperate she did!

  She unlatched the door again as quietly as possible. She pushed itopen far enough to slip through into the kitchen. There was nomovement from the boy--not a sound. Nor did Ruth dare even look inhis direction.

  She crept across the kitchen floor to the stove. She reached thegarments hung upon the chair backs. She selected one and withdrew ina hurry to the staircase, and so ran up to her room.

  "There!" she thought, shutting her door and breathing heavily. "Ifhe wants to run away he can; but he'll have to go without histrousers!"