Ruth Fielding in Moving Pictures | Page 2

crazy crowd of people as
those----Do look there! that woman jumped right down that sandbank.
Did you ever?"
"And there goes another!" Ruth exclaimed.
"Likewise a third," came from Tom, who was quite as much puzzled as
were the girls.
"One after the other--just like Brown's cows," giggled Helen. "Isn't that
funny?"
"It's like one of those chases in the moving pictures," suggested Tom.
"Why, of course!" Ruth cried, relieved at once. "That's exactly what it
is," and she scrambled down the bank with the pail of barberries.

"What is what?" asked her chum.
"Moving pictures," Ruth said confidently. "That is, it will be a film in
time. They are making a picture over yonder. I can see the camera-man
off at one side, turning the crank."
"Cracky!" exclaimed Tom, grinning, "I thought that was a fellow with a
hand-organ, and I was looking for the monkey."
"Monkey, yourself," cried his sister, gaily.
"Didn't know but that he was playing for those 'crazy creeters'--as your
Aunt Alvirah would call them, Ruthie--to dance by," went on Tom.
"Come on! I've got this thing fixed up so it will hobble along a little
farther. Let's take the lane there and go down by the river road, and see
what it's all about."
"Good idea, Tommy-boy," agreed Ruth, as she got into the tonneau and
sat down beside Helen.
"Fancy! taking moving pictures out in the open in mid-winter," Helen
remarked. "Although this is a warm day."
"And no snow on the ground," chimed in Ruth. "Uncle Jabez was
saying last evening that he doesn't remember another such open winter
along the Lumano."
"Say, Ruthie, how does your Uncle Jabez treat you, now that you are a
bloated capitalist?" asked Helen, pinching her chum's arm.
"Oh, Helen! don't," objected Ruth. "I don't feel puffed up at all--only
vastly satisfied and content."
"Hear her! who wouldn't?" demanded Tom. "Five thousand dollars in
bank--and all you did was to use your wits to get it. We had just as
good a chance as you did to discover that necklace and cause the arrest
of the old Gypsy," and the young fellow laughed, his black eyes
twinkling.

"I never shall feel as though the reward should all have been mine,"
Ruth said, as Tom prepared to start the car.
"Pooh! I'd never worry over the possession of so much money," said
Helen. "Not I! What does it matter how you got it? But you don't tell us
what your Uncle Jabez thinks about it."
"I can't," responded Ruth, demurely.
"Why not?"
"Because Uncle Jabez has expressed no opinion--beyond his usual
grunt. It doesn't really matter how the dear man feels," pursued Ruth
Fielding, earnestly. "I know how I feel about it. I am no longer a
'charity child'----"
"Oh, Ruthie! you never were that," Helen hastened to say.
"Oh, yes I was. When I first came to the Red Mill you know Uncle
Jabez only took me in because I was a relative and he felt that he had
to."
"But you helped save him a lot of money," cried Helen. "And there was
that Tintacker Mine business. If you hadn't chanced to find The Fox's
brother out there in the wilds of Montana, and nursed him back to
health, your uncle would never have made a penny in that investment."
Helen might have gone on with continued vehemence, had not Ruth
stopped her by saying:
"That makes no difference in my feelings, my dear. Each quarter Uncle
Jabez has had to pay out a lot of money to Mrs. Tellingham for my
tuition. And he has clothed me, and let me spend money going about
with you 'richer folks,'" and Ruth laughed rather ruefully. "I feel that I
should not have allowed him to do it. I should have remained at the
Red Mill and helped Aunt Alvirah----"
"Pooh! Nonsense!" ejaculated Tom, as the spark ignited and the engine

began to rumble.
"You shouldn't be so popular, Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill," chanted
Helen, leaning over to kiss her chum's flushed cheek.
"Look out for the barberries!" cried Ruth.
"I reckon you don't want to spill them, after working so hard to get
them," Tom said, as the automobile lurched forward.
"I certainly do not," Ruth admitted. "I scratched my hands all up getting
the bucket full. Just fancy finding barberries still clinging to the bushes
in such quantities this time of the year."
"What good are they?" queried Helen, selecting one gingerly and
putting it into her mouth.
"Oh! Aunt Alvirah makes the loveliest pies of them--with huckleberries,
you know. Half and half."
"Where'll you find huckleberries this time of year?" scoffed Tom. "On
the bushes too?"
"In glass jars down cellar, sir," replied Ruth, smartly. "I did help pick
those and put them up last