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Updated: June 12, 2025
The Copley girls always managed to gather, Helen declared, "perfectly splendid house parties;" and they had brought with them several companionable girls and young men. Music and dancing filled the evening, and it was ten o'clock when the two chums from Cheslow sought their motor-boat and set out for the camp on the Chippewa Bay island.
"I was hoofin' it from Cheslow to Grading. I heard of a job up at Grading and I needed that job," Jerry had observed, drily. This was enough to tell Ruth Fielding what was needed. When Dr. Davison asked where the young fellow belonged, Ruth broke in with: "He's going to the mill with me. You come after us, Doctor, if you think he ought to go to bed before his leg is treated."
"And the Sweetbriars will be on hand to preserve order," laughed her chum. "Thanks to you, Ruthie. Why oh! see Tom!" She jumped up, dropping a lapful of pods, and pointed up the Cheslow road, which here branched from the river road almost opposite the Red Mill. "What is the matter?" demanded Ruth, also scrambling to her feet. A big touring car was approaching at top speed.
"Ye don't understand yer uncle's nater like I do, Ruthie. You bein' his charge has been the salvation of him yes, it has! Don't worry when he gives ye money; it's all thet keeps his old heart from freezin' right up solid." Now the Cameron automobile was at the gate, and Helen and Tom were calling to Ruth to hurry. Ben had taken her trunk to the Cheslow station the day before. "Uncle!
I think he axed your uncle for some money, or mebbe something to eat. You see, he didn't know Mr. Potter." "Not if he struck him for a hand-out," muttered the slangy Tom. "Oh, Ben! don't you know whether he went toward Cheslow or where?" cried Ruth. "Does it look probable to you," Tom asked, "that a derelict actor Oh, Jimminy! Of course!
"I'll send it forward to you," he said, not unkindly, and bustled away. And so Ruth Fielding was sitting on her own trunk, with her bag in her lap, and the great mastiff lying on the floor of the baggage car beside her, when the train slowed down and stopped beside the Cheslow platform. She had not expected to arrive just in this way at her journey's end.
Cheslow was not many miles ahead now; she had searched it out upon the railroad timetable, and upon the map printed on the back of the sheet; and as the stations flew by, she had spelled their names out with her quick eyes, until dusk had fallen and she could no longer see more than the signal lamps and switch targets as the train whirled her on. But she still stared through the window.
After crossing the Cheslow Hills and the Lumano by the Long Bridge about twenty miles below the Red Mill, the touring party debouched upon one of the very best State roads. They left much of the dust from which they had first suffered behind them, and Tom could now lead the way with the big car without smothering the occupants of the honeymoon car in the rear.
"You know, Ben told us he had seen and spoken to a tramp-actor that day. Uncle Jabez saw him, too. And you, Tom, followed his trail to the Cheslow railroad yards." "So I did," admitted her friend. "I believe," went on Ruth earnestly, "that this man who came here to live on Beach Plum Point only three weeks ago, is that very vagrant.
Curtis, the railroad station master, had observed him. But suddenly the tramp had disappeared. Whether he had hopped Number 10, bound north, or Number 43, bound south, both of which trains had pulled out of Cheslow within the hour, nobody could be sure. Tom returned to the Red Mill at dusk, forced to report utter failure.
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