Ruth Fielding in Alaska

In one or two of the minor scenes, Ruth had been able to use Sandy Banks and Slick Jones as extras. The two added a great deal to the local color of the scenes in which they were used and Ruth only regretted that she had not been able to use them more frequently.

As it was, the money the young director had given them in return for “enjoyin’ themselves,” as they put it, had made them Ruth’s great friends. As for Slick Jones, the best he had was none too good for this favorite of his. The result was that the girls now found themselves mounted on a pair of gentle though high-spirited colts that seemed aware of the distinguished company they were in and carried themselves accordingly.

It was a relief to Ruth to be doing something again. As the two girls cantered along through the woods in the general direction of the Chase cabin Ruth listened absently to Helen’s chatter. Her actual thoughts were with the Chase girls.

They soon entered the tiny path that led to the Chase cabin. Here the branches of the trees swept so low that the girls were forced to dismount and tie their horses and proceed the rest of the distance on foot.

Ruth’s ankle was unexpectedly painful, and she leaned rather heavily on Helen’s supporting arm as they approached the cabin.

“Foolish child!” Helen was scolding. “You have no business to be getting around at all to-day. Serve you right if you were laid up for a week after this escapade——”

“Sh-h!” warned Ruth, her fingers tightening nervously on Helen’s arm. “There are voices inside the cabin. Listen—a man’s voice!”

They stood still and listened, holding their breath so as not to lose the slightest sound from the cabin.

They were close now. There was the low, heartbroken sound of a girl sobbing—Ellen probably—another passionately raised woman’s voice and the threatening growl of a man.

“A little closer!” urged Ruth, pulling Helen toward the window where they might gain a glimpse of the room.

Cautiously they approached the house, avoiding the door so that no sudden rush from within might take them by surprise. Stealing to one of the windows they peered in and saw a tableau that might have chilled the stoutest heart.

Ellen was crouched in the far corner of the cabin, on her drawn young face an expression of terror. Characteristically, Mary bravely held the old shotgun, but her hands shook so—with excitement as much as, or more than, with fear, Ruth decided—that they could scarcely bear the weight of it.

The third figure was that of a man. The girls outside could not see his face, but even with his back to them he suggested sickeningly the beast of prey, stalking his victim relentlessly and about to spring.

“Lieberstein!” whispered Ruth.

She shrank back from the window and faced Helen, a fierce light in her eyes.

“Ride back to town, quick!” she cried. “Get some of the boys and bring them here. I’ll try to hold Lieberstein if I can!”

“But your ankle——”

“Never mind me!” cried Ruth. “Helen, please don’t stop to argue! Those two girls need help!”

“All right. I’ll be back with some one in a jiffy!”

In a flash she was off, running swiftly and noiselessly toward the spot where they had left the horses.

Ruth approached the window again and looked in. She knew what Lieberstein had come after. Mary had whispered to her only a short time before—having come to know Ruth and to trust her—that her father’s precious papers had been hidden by Ellen and herself in an old cow horn back of a loose stone in the hearth. But when Ruth came upon Lieberstein prowling close to the hiding place, Mary had become alarmed and hidden the papers in a new spot. Where they were now she had never revealed even to Ruth, for Mary Chase had learned caution in a hard school!

Mary had been holding the shotgun, but as Ruth looked, the bully wrenched it from her hands and kicked it contemptuously into one corner of the cabin.

He sneered at Mary and advanced toward her, hands upraised threateningly.

“You’ll threaten me, will you, you little rat!” Ruth heard him say. “Well, I told you, didn’t I, that you’d get fresh with Max Lieberstein once too often? I’m not goin’ to be put off any longer. Now! will you tell me where you hid those papers your Dad set such store by or won’t you?”

“I won’t!” cried Mary, undaunted, and reached behind her for the cane her father had sometimes used.

“Drop that!” ordered Lieberstein, and sprang forward.

Ruth waited for no more.

She hobbled as swiftly as she could on her painful ankle to the door and cautiously opened it. The two in the far corner of the room were too engrossed to notice her. And Ellen, reaching with trembling hands for a chair, seemed not to see her either.

The shotgun lay before Ruth. In a flash inspiration came to her. She stooped and picked up the weapon, then retreated quickly toward the door again.

“Hands up!” she cried in a clear, sharp voice. “We’ve got you!”

The ruse worked. Taken completely by surprise and thinking probably that the girl was followed by a score of others, the cowardly rascal whirled about, at the same time lifting his hands above his head.

“Now,” cried Ruth, eyes blazing. “You utter one more threat to that girl if you dare!”

By this time Lieberstein began to realize that he had been the victim of a clever ruse. He had been tricked, fooled, by a mere girl.

The fury of such a nature as Lieberstein’s beneath such provocation can only be imagined. He was white with rage, and advanced upon Ruth with both fists upraised.

“You—you—” he sputtered. “I’ll show you——”

But there was something about Ruth and her attitude as she stood facing him that made him pause despite himself. For in that moment the anger of the young director quite matched Lieberstein’s. And she possessed one great advantage over him in that her mind became more clear and calm the greater rage she felt and functioned with an almost uncanny swiftness and accuracy.

“Don’t come another step!” she commanded in a voice that was as clear and cold as the dropping of icicles. “Under the circumstances I wouldn’t mind much if this gun did go off. And if you come much closer, maybe it will. Keep that hand up, please!”

The command was so sharp and was accompanied by such a suggestive motion of the shotgun that Lieberstein obeyed almost automatically. His right hand that had been wandering toward his belt joined the left above his head.

Ruth was excited and strangely exhilarated. She was holding the scoundrel! If she could only keep this up for a short time longer Helen would be back with some one from Knockout Point. Her ears strained for the sound of approaching aid.

“You’ve got the drop on me this time,” snarled Lieberstein, his face purple with rage. “Ruth Fielding, the great director, on the job again! You’d better keep out of this, you——”

“Stop!”

It was Mary’s voice. She and Ellen had crept close to Ruth. Mary grasped the heavy cane. Ellen had raised the chair above her head, ready for action.

“You stop!” cried Mary again, her eyes steely as she looked at Lieberstein. “Ruth Fielding is my friend. She has been kind to Ellen and me. You are a fiend. Don’t you dare call her names.”

This new attack seemed to drive Lieberstein beyond himself with fury. He ignored Ruth and the shotgun and charged down upon Mary, face livid.

“Hands up—you!”

Lieberstein whirled about.

In the doorway stood Layton Boardman!