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Updated: October 26, 2025
The stop at this town was brief; then the train sped on through the deep woods. But suddenly the airbrakes were put on again and they slowed down with a good deal of clatter and bumping. "We're not at Scarboro yet, surely?" cried Mrs. Murchiston. "No, no!" Mr. Cameron assured them. "We're stopping from some other cause why, this is merely a flag station. Not even a station just a crossing."
The woman on the wire explained to Ruth that she was telephoning all along the line toward Scarboro, warning each farmer of the big cat's approach. "But if it keeps on in the same direction it was going when we saw it last, the creature will strike Snow Camp first," declared the excited lady. "You must get your men out with guns and dogs to stop the beast if you can.
The nearer they approached Scarboro the more uncertain she became, and the more sullen Fred Hatfield looked. Ruth watched him a good deal, but so covertly that her girl friends did not notice her abstraction. The short Winter day was beginning to draw in and the red sun was hanging low above the tree-tops when Mr. Cameron announced that the second stop of the train would be their destination.
I never had been so tired in my life, and at the end of the second day when the oil from the three whales had been run into the tanks and the decks cleared up again, I could have fallen into my hammock and slept the clock around. But one never catches up one's sleep on a successful whaler, and the Scarboro certainly was proving good her name as a "lucky" craft.
"Ladies that do up their heads in blankets and won't answer when they're spoken to, ought to go." Mrs. Scarboro, Judge Gatchell, and one of my old ladies were dining with us that night, for which I thanked Heaven.
It was from Ham Mayberry's letter I got the facts regarding my cousin and his father. Lampton, the man at the boathouse, and Ham himself had had their suspicions of what had become of me, and how the Wavecrest had been swept away in the storm, before my letters from the Scarboro were received. They had found the cut mooring cable.
After that, of course, there was nothing to do but challenge him. You must be thinking of Barton Bailey, Eliza DuFour's grandfather on her mother's side. He was a complete scoundrel. Or maybe you're thinking of Tiger Bill Pendarvis. A most awful person! almost an out-law!" Mrs. Scarboro looked up, bit off a thread, and said placidly: "Oh, awful!
By several different ways for Cheslow was a junction of the railroad lines the young folk who had been invited to Snow Camp had gathered at the station to meet the Camerons and Ruth Fielding. Nobody noticed Fred Hatfield, saving Mr. Cameron and Ruth herself; but the runaway found no opportunity of leaving the party. Tom had no attention to give the Scarboro boy as he welcomed his own chums.
We were out of the track of general steamship routes, and far, far from land. If the bark sank, we were done for! Nobody gave any further thought to the whale. My own eyes were set upon that yawning wound in the hull of the old Scarboro. After the shock of the collision the bark righted slowly, and when she did so the sea rushed into the hole in a most awful fashion.
Far out on the eastern plain they saw, through Zurich's spyglass, a slow procession, heading directly for them. "We've beat 'em to it!" said Eric. "That country out there is washed out something terrible, for all it looks so flat," said Jim Scarboro sympathetically. "They've got to ride slow. Gee, I bet it's hot out there!" "One thing sure," said Eric: "there's no such mine as that on Fishhook.
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