CHAPTER XXI
HUNTING FOR AMY
In spite of her seemingly heartless words, it was Ann Hicks who agreed togo with Ruth to hunt for the lost girl. Helen frankly acknowledged thatshe was afraid to tramp about the woods and fields at night, with only aboy and a lantern for company.
"Come along, Ruthie. I have helped find stray cattle on the range moretimes than you could shake a stick at," declared good-natured Ann Hicks."Rouse out that lazy boy of Grandma Smith's."
Mrs. Sadoc Smith had to give just so much advice, and see that theexpedition was properly equipped. A thermos bottle filled with coffee wentinto Ruth's bag, while Curly was laden with a substantial lunch, a roll ofbandages, a bottle of arnica and some smelling-salts, beside the lantern.
"Huh!" protested the boy to Ann, "if she was sending us out to find a lost_boy_ all she'd send would be that cat-o'-nine-tails of hers that hangs inthe woodshed. I know Gran!"
"And the cat-o'-nine-tails, too, eh?" chuckled the Western girl.
"You bet!" agreed Curly, feelingly.
They set forth with just one idea about the search. Amy Gregg, as far asCurly could remember, had expressed a wish to go to but one place. Thatwas the old dam up in Norman's Woods, where he and Ruth had gone fishing.
They were quite sure that it would be useless to hunt for the girl in anyneighbor's house. And Mrs. Sadoc Smith's premises had already beensearched. They had shouted for Amy till their throats were sore before thenews had come from Briarwood Hall. The fact that Amy had been sufferingfrom a physical ailment, as well as one of the mind, troubled Ruthexceedingly.
"Maybe she was just 'sickening for some disease,' as Aunt Alvirah says,"the girl of the Red Mill told Ann Hicks, as they went along. "A sorethroat is the forerunner of so many fevers and serious troubles. She mightbe coming down with scarlet fever."
"Goodness gracious! don't say _that_" begged Ann.
Ruth feared it, nevertheless. The two girls followed Curly through thenarrow path, the dripping bushes wetting their skirts, and briers at timesscratching them. Ann was a good walker and could keep up quite as well asRuth. Beside, Curly was not setting a pace on this occasion, but stumbledon with the lantern, rather blindly.
"Tell you what," he grumbled. "I don't fancy this job a mite."
"You're not 'afraid to go home in the dark,' are you, Curly?" asked Ann,with scorn.
"Not going home just now," responded the boy, grinning. "But the woodsaren't any place to be out in this time of night--unless you've got a dogand a gun. There! see that?"
"A cat, that's all," declared Ruth, who had seen the little black andwhite animal run across their track in the flickering and uncertain lightof the lantern. "Here, kitty! kitty! Puss! puss! puss!"
"Hold on!" cried the excited Curly. "You needn't be so particular aboutcalling that cat."
"Why not? It must be somebody's cat that's strayed," said Ruth.
"Ya-as. I guess it is. It's a pole-cat," growled Curly. "And if it camewhen you called it, you wouldn't like it so much, I guess."
"Oh, goodness!" gasped Ann. "Don't be so friendly with every strangeanimal you see, Ruth Fielding. A pole-cat!"
"Wish I had a gun!" exclaimed Curly. "I'd shoot that skunk."
"Glad you didn't then," said Ruth, promptly. "Poor little thing."
"Ya-as," drawled the boy. "'Poor little thing.' It was just aiming forsomebody's hencoop. One of 'em 'll eat chickens faster than Gran's henscan hatch 'em out."
Pushing on through the woods at this slow pace brought them to the ruinedgrist mill and the old dam not before ten o'clock. There was a pale andwatery moon, the shine of which glistened on the falling water over theold logs of the dam, but gave the searchers little light. The moon's raysmerely aided in making the surroundings of the mill more ghostly.
Nobody lived within a mile of the mill site, Curly assured the girls, andif Amy had found this place it was not likely that she had likewise foundthe nearest human habitation, for that was beyond the mill and directlyopposite to Briarwood and the town of Lumberton.
They shouted for Amy, and then searched the ghostly premises of the ruinedmill. Years before the roof had been burned away and some of the wallsfallen in. Owls made their nests in the upper part of the building, as theparty found, much to the girls' excitement when a huge, spread-wingedcreature dived out of a window and went "whish! whish! whish!" off throughthe long grass, to hunt for mice or other small, night-prowling creatures.
"Goodness! that owl is as big as a turkey!" gasped Ruth, clinging to Annin her fright.
"Bigger," announced Curly. "Old Scratch! I'd like to shoot him and havehim stuffed."
"I'd rather have some of the turkey stuffing," chuckled Ann Hicks. "Owlwould be rather tough, I reckon."
"Oh, not to eat!" scoffed Curly. "I'd put him in Gran's parlor. And thatreminds me of an owl story----"
"Don't tell us any old stories; tell us new ones, if you must tell any,"Ann interrupted.
"How do you know whether this is old or young till I've told it?" demandedCurly, as they all three sat on the ruined doorstep of the mill to rest.
"Quite right, Curly," sighed Ruth. "Go ahead. Make us laugh. I feel likecrying."
"Then you can cry over it," retorted the boy. "There was a butcher who hada stuffed owl in his shop and an old Irishman came in and asked him: 'Howmooch for the broad-faced bur-r-rd?'
"'It's an owl,' said the butcher.
"The old man repeated his question--'how mooch for the broad-facedbur-r-rd?'
"'It's an owl, I tell you!' exclaimed the butcher.
"'I know it's _ould_,' says the Irishman. 'But what d'ye want for it?It'll make soup for me boar-r-rders!'"
"That's a good story," admitted Ruth, "but try to think up some way offinding poor little Amy, instead of telling funny tales."
"Oh, how can I help----"
Curly stopped. Ann, who was sitting in the middle, grabbed both him andRuth. "Listen to that!" she whispered. "_That_ isn't another owl, is it?"
"What is it?" gasped Ruth.
Somewhere in the ruin of the mill there was a noise. It might have beenthe voice of an animal or of a bird, but it sounded near enough like ahuman being to scare all three of the young people on the doorstep.
"Sa-ay," quavered Curly. "You don't suppose there are such things asghosts, do you, girls?"
"No, I don't!" snapped Ruth. "Don't try to scare us either, Curly."
"Honest, I'm not. I'm right here," cried the boy. "You know I never madethat noise----"
"There it is again!" exclaimed Ann.
The sound was like the cry of something in distress. Ruth got up suddenlyand tried to put on a brave front. "I can't sit here and listen to that,"she said.
"Let's go," urged Ann. "I'm ready."
"Oh, say----" began Curly, when Ruth interrupted him by seizing thelantern.
"Don't fret, Curly Smith," she said. "We're not going without finding outwhat that sound means."
"Maybe it's young owls, and the old one will come back and pick our eyesout," suggested Ann.
"Get a club, Curly," commanded Ruth. "We'll be ready, then, for man orbeast."
This order gave Curly confidence, and made him pluck up his own waningcourage. These girls depended upon him, and he was not the boy to backdown before even a ghostly Unknown.
He found a club and went side by side with Ruth into the mill. The soundthat had disturbed them was repeated. Ruth was sure, now, that it wassomebody sobbing.
"Amy! Amy Gregg!" she called again.
"Pshaw!" murmured Ann. "It isn't Amy. She'd have been out of here in ahurry when we shouted for her before."
Ruth was not so sure of that. They came to a break in the flooring. Oncethere had been steps here leading down into the cellar of the mill, butthe steps had rotted away.
"Amy!" called Ruth again. She knelt and held the lantern as far down thewell as she could reach. The sound of sobbing had ceased.
"Amy, _dear_!" cried Ruth. "It's Ruth and Ann, And Curly is w
ith us. Doanswer if you hear me!"
There was a murmur from below. Ann cried out in alarm, but Curlyexclaimed: "I believe that's Amy, Ruth! She must be hurt--the silly thing.She's tumbled down this old well."
"How will we get to her?" cried Ruth. "Amy! how did you get down there?Are you hurt, Amy?"
"Go away!" said a faint voice from below.
"Old Scratch! Isn't that just like her?" groaned Curly. "She was hidingfrom us."
"Here," said Ruth, drawing up the lantern and setting it on the floor. "Itcan't be very deep. I'm going to drop down there, Curly, and then you passdown the lantern to me."
"You'll break your neck, Ruth!" cried Ann.
"No. I'm not going to risk my neck at all," Ruth calmly affirmed.
She set the lantern on the broken floor and swung herself down into theblack hole. She hung by her hands and her feet did not touch the bottom.Suddenly she felt a qualm of terror. Perhaps the cellar was a good dealdeeper than she had supposed!
She could not raise herself up again, and she almost feared to drop. "Letdown the light, Curly!" she whispered.