CHAPTER VIII
JERRY SHEMING AGAIN
Ruth, with all the fun and study of the opening of the fall term atBriarwood, could not entirely forget Jerry Sheming. More particularly didshe think of him because of the invitation Belle Tingley had extended toher the day of their arrival.
It was a coincidence that none of the other girls appreciated, for none ofthem had talked much with the young fellow who had saved Ann Hicks fromthe wrecked car at Applegate Crossing. Even Ann herself had not become asfriendly with the boy as had Ruth.
The fact that he had lived a good share of his life on the very islandBelle said her father had bought for a hunting camp, served to spur Ruth'sinterest in both the youth and the island itself. Then, what Jerry hadtold her about his uncle's lost treasure box added to the zest of theaffair.
Somewhere on the island Peter Tilton had lost a box containing money andprivate papers. Jerry believed it to have been buried by a landslide thathad occurred months before.
There must be something in this story, or why should "Uncle Pete," asJerry called him, have lost his mind over the catastrophe? Uncle Pete mustbe really mad or they would not have shut him up in the county asylum.
The loss of the papers supposed to be in the box made it possible for someman named Blent to cheat the old hunter out of his holdings on CliffIsland.
Not for a moment did Ruth suppose that Mr. Tingley, Belle's father, was aparty to any scheme for cheating the old hunter. It was the work of theman Blent--if true.
Ruth was very curious--and very much interested. Few letters ever passedbetween her and the Red Mill. Aunt Alvirah's gnarled and twisted fingersdid not take kindly to the pen; and Uncle Jabez loved better to add up hisearnings than to spend an evening retailing the gossip of the Mill for hisgrandniece to peruse.
Ruth knew that Jerry had soon recovered from his accident and that forseveral weeks, at least, had worked for Uncle Jabez. The latter grudginglyadmitted that Jerry was the best man he had ever hired in the cornfield,both in cutting fodder and shucking corn.
Just before Thanksgiving there came a letter saying that Jerry had goneon. Of course, Ruth knew that her uncle would not keep the young fellowlonger than he could make use of him; but she was sorry he had gone beforeshe had communicated with him.
The girl of the Red Mill felt that she wished to know Jerry better. Shehad been deeply interested in his story. She had hoped to learn more abouthim.
"If you are really going to Cliff Island for the holidays, Belle," shetold the latter, "I hope I can go."
"Bully!" exclaimed Belle, joyfully. "We'll have a dandy time there--betterthan we had at Helen's father's camp, last winter. I refuse to be lost inthe snow again."
"Same here," drawled Heavy. "But I wish that lake you talk about, Belle,wouldn't freeze over. I don't like ice," with a shiver.
"Who ever heard of water that wouldn't freeze?" demanded Belle,scornfully.
"I have," said Heavy, promptly.
"What kind of water, I'd like to know, Miss?"
"Hot water," responded Heavy, chuckling.
Helen, and most of the other girls who were invited to Cliff Island forChristmas, had already accepted the invitation. Ruth wrote to her unclewith some little doubt. She did not know how he would take the suggestion.She had been at the mill so little since first she began attendingboarding school.
This Thanksgiving she did not expect to go home. Few of the girls did so,for the recess was only over the week-end and lessons began again onMonday. Only those girls who lived very near to Briarwood made a realvacation of the first winter holiday. A good many used the time to make uplessons and work off "conditions."
Thanksgiving Day itself was made somewhat special by a trip to BuchaneFalls, where there was a large dam. Dinner was to be served at five in theevening, and more than half the school went off to the falls (which wasten miles away) in several big party wagons, before ten o'clock in themorning.
"Bring your appetites back with you, girls," Mrs. Tellingham told them atchapel, and Heavy, at least, had promised to do so and meant to keep herword. Yet even Heavy did justice to the cold luncheon that was served toall of them at the falls.
It was crisp autumn weather. Early in the morning there had been a skim ofice along the edge of the water; but there had not yet been frost enoughto chain the current of the Buchane Creek. Indeed, it would not freezeover in the middle until mid-winter, if then.
The picnic ground was above the falls and on the verge of the bigmillpond. There were swings, and a bowling alley, and boats, and otheramusements.
Ruth had fairly dragged Ann Hicks into the party. The girls who had beenmeanest to the westerner were present. Ann would have had a woefully badtime of it had not some of the smaller girls needed somebody to look outfor them.
Ann hated the little girls at Briarwood less than she did the big ones. Infact, the "primes," as they were called, rather took to the big girl fromthe West.
One of the swings was not secure, and Ann started to fix it. She couldclimb like any boy, and there did not happen to be a teacher near toforbid her. Therefore, up she went, unfastened the rope from the beam, andproceeded to splice the place where it had become frayed.
It was not a new rope, but was strong save in that one spot. Ann coiledit, and although it did not have the "feel" of the fine hemp, or the goodhair rope that is part of the cowman's equipment, her hands and armtingled to lassoo some active, running object.
She coiled it once more and then flung the rope at a bush. The littlegirls shouted their appreciation. Ann did not mind, for there seemed to beno juniors or seniors there to see. Most of the older girls were down bythe water.
Indeed, some of the seniors were trying to interest the bigger girls inrowing. Briarwood owned a small lake, and they might have canoes andracing shells upon it, if the girls as a whole would become interested.
But many of the big girls did not even know how to row. There was one bigpunt into which almost a dozen of them crowded. Heavy sat in the stern anddeclared that she had to have a big crowd in the bow of the boat, tobalance it and keep her end from going down.
Therefore one girl after another jumped in, and when it was really toofull for safety it was pushed out from the landing. Just about the timethe current which set toward the middle of the pond seized the punt, itwas discovered that nobody had thought of oars.
"How under the sun did you suppose a thing like this was going to bepropelled?" Heavy demanded. "I never did see such a fellow as you are,Mandy Mitchell!"
"You needn't scold me," declared the Mitchell girl. "You invited me intothe boat."
"Did I? Why! I must have been crazy, then!" declared Heavy. "And didn'tany of you think how we were going to get back to shore?"
"Nor we don't know now," cried another girl.
"Oh-o!" gasped one of the others, darting a frightened look ahead. "We'reaiming right for the dam."
"You wouldn't expect the boat to drift against the current, would you?"snapped Heavy.
"Let's scream!" cried another--and they could all do that to perfection.In a very few minutes it was apparent to everybody within the circle ofhalf a mile or more that a bunch of girls was in trouble--or thought so!
"Sit down!" gasped Heavy. "Don't rock the boat. If that yelling doesn'tbring anybody, we're due to reach a watery grave, sure enough."
"Oh, don't, Heavy!" wailed one of the weaker ones. "How can you?"
Heavy was privately as frightened as any of them, but she tried to keepthe others cheerful, and would have kept on joking till the end. Butseveral small boats came racing down the pond after them, and along thebank came a man--or a boy--running and shouting. How either the girls inthe boats or the youth on the shore could help them, was a mystery; butboth comforted the imperiled party immensely.
The current swung the heavy punt in toward the shore. Right at that end ofthe dam the water was running a foot deep--or more--over the flash-board.
If the punt struck, it would turn broadside, and p
robably tip all handsover the dam. This was a serious predicament, indeed, and the spectatorsrealized it even more keenly than did the girls in the punt.
The youth who had been called to the spot by their screams threw off hiscoat and cap, and they saw him stoop to unlace his shoes. A plunge intothis cold water was not attractive, and it was doubtful if he could helpthem much if he reached the punt.
Down the hill from the picnic grounds came a group of girls, Ann Hicks inthe lead. Most of her companions were too small to do any good in anyevent. The girl from the ranch carried a neat coil of rope in one hand andshe shouted to Heavy to "Hold on!"
"You tell me what to hold on to, and you'll see me do it!" replied theplump girl. "All I can take hold of just now is thin air."
"Hold on!" said Ann again, and stopped, having reached the right spot.Then she swung the rope in the air, let it uncoil suddenly, and the looseend dropped fairly across Jennie Stone's lap.
"Hold on!" yelled everybody, then, and Heavy obeyed.
But the young fellow sprang to Ann's aid, and wrapped the slack of therope around a stout sapling on the edge of the pond.
"Easy! Easy!" he admonished. "We don't want to pull them out of the boat.You _can_ fling a rope; can't you, Miss?"
"I'd ought to," grunted Ann. "I've roped enough steers--Why! you're JerrySheming," she declared, suddenly looking into his face. "Ruth Fieldingwants to see you. Don't you run away before she talks with you."
Then the rope became taut, and the punt began to swing shoreward slowly,taking in some water and setting the girls to screaming again.