Ruth Fielding in the Great Northwest | Page 4

of her senses. Truly, however, she had been through too many exciting
events to be long overcome by this one.
Many queer experiences and perilous adventures had come into Ruth
Fielding's life since the time when, as an orphan of twelve years, she
had come to the Red Mill, just outside the town of Cheslow, to live
with her Great Uncle Jabez and his queer little old housekeeper, Aunt
Alvirah.
The miller was not the man generously to offer Ruth the advantages she
craved. Had it not been for her dearest friend, Helen Cameron, at first

Ruth would not have been dressed well enough to enter the local school.
But if Jabez Potter was a miser, he was a just man after his fashion.
Ruth saved him a considerable sum of money during the first few
months of her sojourn at the Red Mill, and in payment for this Uncle
Jabez allowed her to accompany Helen Cameron to that famous
boarding school, Briarwood Hall.
While at school at Briarwood, and during the vacations between
semesters, Ruth Fielding's career actually began, as the volumes
following "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill" show. The girl had
numerous adventures at Briarwood Hall, at Snow Camp, at Lighthouse
Point, at Silver Ranch, on Cliff Island, at Sunrise Farm, among the
gypsies, in moving pictures, down in Dixie, at college, in the saddle, in
the Red Cross in France, at the war front, and when homeward bound.
The volume just previous to this present story related Ruth's adventures
"Down East," where she went with Helen and Tom Cameron, as well as
Jennie Stone, Jennie's fiancé, Henri Marchand, and her Aunt Kate, who
was their chaperon.
The girl of the Red Mill had long before the time of the present
narrative proved her talent as a scenario writer, and working for Mr.
Hammond, president of the Alectrion Film Corporation, had already
made several very successful pictures. It seemed that her work in life
was to be connected with the silver sheet.
Even Uncle Jabez had acknowledged Ruth's ability as a scenario writer,
and was immensely proud of her work when he learned how much
money she was making out of the pictures. For the old miller judged
everything by a monetary standard.
Aunt Alvirah was, of course, very proud of her "pretty" as she called
Ruth Fielding. Indeed, all Ruth's friends considered her success in
picture-making as only going to show just how smart Ruth Fielding
was. But the girl of the Red Mill was far too sensible to have her head
turned by such praise. Even Tom Cameron's pride in her pictures only
made the girl glad that she succeeded in delighting him.
For Ruth and Tom were closer friends now than ever before--and for

years they had been "chummy." The adventures which had thrown
them so much together in France while Tom was a captain in the
American Expeditionary Forces and Ruth was working with the
American Red Cross, had welded their confidence in and liking for
each other until it seemed that nothing but their youth and Tom's duties
in the army kept them from announcing their engagement.
"Do finish the war quickly, Tom," she had said to him whimsically, not
long before Tom had gone back to France. "I do not feel as though I
could return to college, or write another scenario, or do another single
solitary thing until peace is declared."
"And then?" Tom had asked significantly, and Ruth had given him an
understanding smile.
The uncertainty of that time--the whole nation waited and listened
breathlessly for news from abroad--seemed to Ruth more than she
could bear. She had entered upon this pleasure jaunt to the Wild West
Show with the other girls because she knew that anything to take their
minds off the more serious thoughts of the war was a good thing.
Now, as she felt herself in peril of being gored by that black bull a tiny
thought flashed into her mind:
"What terrible peril may be facing Tom Cameron at this identical
moment?"
When the bull was gone, wounded by that unexpected rifle shot, and
her three chums gathered about her, this thought of Tom's danger was
still uppermost in Ruth's mind.
"Dear me, how silly of me!" she murmured. "There are lots worse
things happening every moment over there than being gored by a bull."
"What an idea!" ejaculated Helen. "Are you crazy? What has that to do
with you being pitched over that fence, for instance?"
She glanced at the fence which divided the field in which the

automobiles stood from that where the two great tents of the Wild West
Show were pitched. A broad-hatted man was standing at the bars. He
drawled:
"Gal ain't hurt none, is she? That was a close shave--closer, a pile,