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

e no loungers upon the high, railless porch which extended clear across the front of the building. Indeed, there was but one wagon standing be

ewalk in front of the

crossing the tr

ack immediately, Fred

I shall call

arty the slip at some station, had Ruth not kept such a sharp watch upon h

in Scarboro again. And he had a suspicion that Ruth knew hi

o the timber wagon-the only wagon standing by the store- jingled their harness as they shook their heads. One bit at the other, and his mate

led for the return of the flagman. But none of the train-hands-nor did the party

rear brakeman bobbing along beside the ties. In a moment he swung himself aboard the private car and his lant

oods boy himself; he knew how to handle mules. He gave a shout to which the team responded instantly. They leaped ahead jus

ont of the large rear wheel. If it struck her-knocked her down-ran over her! Fred knew that she w

e!" he bawled, as the mu

hard they were to manage. And this pair were evidently looking toward supper. They flew up the road, dir

Stop them!

lling enough to start when given the word by a stranger; but now

a! Ye

nd faster. They had their bits 'twixt their

in the deep woods. There were no farms-no clearings-not even an open patch in the timber. The snow lay deep under the pines and f

" moaned Ruth, clinging to

't!" repeated t

ked boy! you'll kill

Fred, sharply. "And I wouldn't never have

eclared the girl from the Red Mill, in both anger and de

tfield, and then tried to so

st two miles, began to slow down. The wagon was now passing through a wild piece of the forest, and it was growi

d ever get back to the railroad. Would Mr. Cameron send back for her? What would happen to her,

cried out in new alarm, and the mules stopped dead- for a moment. They were trembling and tossing their heads wildly. The awful, blood-chilling s

shouted, the lithe cat sprang over the brush heap a

her, and the wicked, graceful, writhing body of the beast had frightened her more than the bulk of the elephant or the roaring of the lion. This gr

skered lips of the catamount and on the heels of the cry the mules started at full gallop. The panther sprang into the air like a rubbe

ber, beyond the rear wheels. Mad with fright, the mules tore on along the wood road. There were many turns in it, and the deep ruts shook them about terrifically. Rut

ssels to a rock, while the panther bounded into the air, screeching and spitting, always cat

s eyes blazing like huge carbuncles in the dusk. There was a fork of the roads at the foot of the hill. Fred Hatfield uttered a shriek of despair as the mules took the right

d. "They've taken the road to Rattlesnak