CHAPTER XVIIOFF FOR SCHOOL AGAIN
There was much bustle about the old Red Mill. The first tang of frost was in the air, and September was lavishly painting the trees and bushes along the banks of the Lumano with crimson and yellow.
A week had elapsed since Ruth and Helen had been prisoners in the Gypsies' encampment, up in the hills. That week had been crowded with excitement and adventure for the chums and Tom Cameron. They would all three have much to talk about regarding the Gypsies and their ways, for weeks to come.
Uncle Ike Cameron had roused up the County Sheriff and all his minions, before Ruth appeared at Severn Corners, driven by the kindly farmer to whose door Roberto had brought her through the darkness and rain.
Constable Peck, having searched the Gypsy camp, believed that Ruth must have escaped from the Romany people at the same time as Helen. Therefore, it was not until Ruth's complete story was told, that actual pursuit of the Gypsies by the county authorities was begun.
Then Queen Zelaya and her band were not only out of the county, but out of the state, as well. They had hurried across the border, and it was understood that the tribe had gone south—as they usually did in the winter—and would be seen no more in New York State—at least not until the next spring.
The three friends had much to tell wherever they went during this intervening week. They had had a fine time at "Uncle Ike's," but every adventure they had was tame in comparison to those they had experienced on the road overlooking Long Lake.
They wondered what had become of Roberto—if he had returned to his people and risked being accused of letting Ruth escape. Ruth discussed this point with her friends; but one thing she had never mentioned to either Helen, or her brother Tom.
She did not speak to them of the wonderful pearl necklace she had seen in the old Gypsy queen's possession. There was a mystery about that; she believed Zelaya must have stolen it. The man with the wicked face had intimated that it was part of some plunder the Gypsies had secured.
Now, Ruth and Helen—and Tom as well—were ready to start for school again. This was the last morning for some time to come, thatRuth would look out of her little bedroom window at the Red Mill.
She always left the beautiful place with regret. She had come to love old Aunt Alvirah so much, and have such a deep affection and pity for the miserly miller, that the joy of going back to Briarwood was well tempered with remorse.
The night before, Uncle Jabez had come to Ruth, when she was alone, and thrust a roll of coin in her hand. "Ye'll want some ter fritter away as us'al, Niece Ruth," he had said in his most snarling tone.
When she looked at it, her heart beat high. There were five ten-dollar gold pieces!
It was given in an ungrateful way, yet the girl of the Red Mill believed her uncle meant to be kind after all. The very thought of giving up possession of so much money made him cranky. Perhaps he was determined to give her these fifty dollars on the very day they had been wrecked on the Lumano. No wonder he had been so cross all this time!
It was Uncle Jabez's way. As Aunt Alvirah said, he could not help it. At least, he had never learned to make any effort to cure this unfortunate niggardliness that made him seem so unkind.
"I do wish I had a lot of money," she told Aunt Alvirah, with a sigh. "I would never have to ask him to pay out a cent again. I could refuseto take this that he has given me and then I——"
"Tut, tut, my pretty! don't say that," said the little old woman, soothingly. "It does him good to put his hand in his pocket—it does, indeed. If it is a sad wrench for him ter git it out ag'in—all the better!" and she chuckled a little as she lowered herself into her rocker. "Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!"
"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. Ruth appeared with her new handbag (the Gypsies had the old one), flung her arms about Aunt Alvirah's neck as she sat on the porch, and then ran swiftly to the door of the mill.
"Uncle! I'm going!" she called into the brown dusk of the place.
He came slowly to the door. His gray, grim face was unlighted by even an attempt at a smile, as he shook hands with her.
"I know ye'll be a good gal," he said, sourly. "Ye allus be. But be savin' with—with all thetmoney I gave ye. It's enough to be the ruination of a young gal to hev so much."
He repented of his gift, she knew. Yet she remembered what Aunt Alvirah had said, and refrained from handing it back to him. She determined, however, if she could, to never touch the five gold pieces, and some time, when she was self-supporting, she would hand the very same coins back to him!
This was in her thought as she moved away. So, on this occasion, Ruth Fielding did not leave the Red Mill with a very happy feeling at her heart.
The automobile sped away along the shady road into Cheslow. At the station Mercy Curtis, the lame girl, was awaiting them, although it was still some time before the train was due that would bear them away to Lake Osago.
When itdidsteam into view and come to a slow stop beside the platform, there was Heavy Stone and The Fox with their hands out of the windows, shouting to them. They had secured two seats facing each other, and Ruth and Mercy joined them, while Tom and Helen took the seat behind.
Such a chattering as there was! The fleshy girl and Mary Cox had not seen Ruth and Helen and Mercy since they had all returned from the Steeles' summer home at Sunrise Farm, and you may believe there was plenty to talk about.
"Who else is here?" demanded Ruth, standing up to search the length of the car for familiar faces.
"Look out, Miss!" cried Heavy, producing her first joke of the fall term. "Remember Lot's wife!"
"Why so?" asked Helen.
"Goodness me! how ignorant you are—and you took chemistry last year, too," declared Jennie Stone.
"I—don't—just—see," admitted Helen.
"You mean to say you don't know what two-fold chemical change Lot's wife underwent?"
"Give it up!"
"Why," giggled Heavy, "first she turned to rubber, and then she turned to salt!"
When the crowd had shown their appreciation, The Fox said:
"We're going to pick up an Infant at Maxwell. Heard about her?"
"No. Who is she?" asked Helen. "Not that Infants interest me much now. We can let the juniors take them in hand. Remember, girls, we are full-fledged seniors this year."
"You'll have an interest in this new girl," said Miss Cox, with assurance.
"Why?"
"She is Nettie Parsons. You know her father is the big sugar man. He has oodles of money!"
"Lot's of sugar, eh?" chuckled Heavy. "Hope she'll bring some to school with her. I have a sweet tooth, I hope you know."
"A tooth! a whole set of sweet teeth, you mean!" cried Ruth.
"I only hope she is nice. I don't care how much money she has," said Helen, smiling. "We won't hold her wealth up against her, if she's the right sort."
"Oh, I'm not fooling," said The Fox, rather sharply, for she had a short temper, "to match her red hair," as Heavy said. "She'll probably bring trunks full of nice dresses to school and loads of jewelry——"
"Won't that be silly? For Mrs. Tellingham won't let her wear them."
"Only on state and date occasions," put in Mercy.
"At any rate, her folks have splendid things. Why! don't you remember about her aunt losing that be-a-utiful necklace last spring?"
"Necklace?" repeated Ruth. "What sort of a necklace?"
"One of the finest pearl collars in the world, they say. Worth maybe fifty thousand dollars. Wonderful!"
"A pearl necklace?" queried the girl from the Red Mill, her interest growing.
"Yes, indeed."
"How careless of her!" said Heavy, with a yawn.
"Silly!" exclaimed The Fox. "It was stolen, of course."
"By whom?" demanded Ruth.
"Why, if the police knew that, they'd get back the necklace, wouldn't they?" demanded Mary Cox, with scorn.
"But I didn't know—they might suspect?" suggested Ruth, meekly.
"They do. Gypsies."
"Gypsies!" cried Ruth and Helen together. And then the latter began: "Oh, girls! listen to what happened to Ruth and me only a week ago!"
"Wait a bit, dear," broke in Ruth. "Let us know a little more about the lost necklace. Why do they think the Gypsies took it?"
"I'll tell you," said The Fox. "You see, this aunt of Nettie's is very, very rich. She comes from California, and she was on to visit the Parsons last spring.
"There was a tribe of Gypsies camping near the Parsons estate. They all went over to have their fortunes told—just for a lark, you know. It was after dinner one evening, and there was company. Nettie's Aunt Rachel had dressed her best, and she wore the necklace to the Gypsy camp.
"That very night the Parsons' house was robbed. Not much was taken except the aunt'sjewel-box and some money she had in her desk. The robbers were frightened away before they could go to any of the other suites.
"The next day the Gypsies had left their encampment, too. Of course, there was nothing to connect the robbery with the Gyps., save circumstantial evidence. The police didn't find either the Gypsies or the necklace. But Aunt Rachel offered five thousand dollars' reward for the return of the pearls."
"Just think of that!" gasped Helen. "Five thousand dollars. My, Ruthie! wouldn't you like to winthat?"
"Indeed I would," returned her chum, with longing.
"But I guess the Gypsieswewere mixed up with never owned a pearl necklace like that. They didn't look as though they had anything but the gaily colored rags they stood in—and their horses."
"What do you know about Gypsies?" asked The Fox.
"A whole lot," cried Helen. "Let me tell you," and she proceeded to repeat the story of their adventure with Queen Zelaya and her tribe. Ruth said nothing during the story; her mind was busy with the mystery of the missing necklace.
CHAPTER XVIIIGETTING INTO HARNESS
Nettie Parsons proved to be a very sweet, quiet girl, when she came aboard the train at Maxwell. She was rather older than the majority of girls who entered Briarwood Hall as "Infants." It seemed that she had suffered considerable illness and that had made her backward in her books.
"Never mind! She'll be company for Ann Hicks," said Helen. "Won't that be fine? Neither of them will feel so badly, then, because they are in the lower classes."
"We'll get the Sweetbriars to make her feel at home," said Ruth, to her chum. "No hazing this term, girlie! Let's welcome the newcomers like friends and sisters."
"Sure, my dear," agreed Helen. "We haven't forgotten what they did tous, when we first landed at Briarwood Hall."
When the train ran down to the dock where they were to take the steamboatLanawaxafor the other side of the lake, there was a crowd of a dozen or more girls in waiting. A welcoming shout greeted Ruth as she headed the party from the vestibule coach:
"S. B.—Ah-h h!S. B.—Ah-h-h!Sound our battle-cryNear and far!S. B.—All!Briarwood Hall!Sweetbriars, do or die—This be our battle-cry—Briarwood Hall!That's All!"
Every girl present belonged to the now famous school society, and Nettie Parsons was interested right away. She wished to know all about it, and how to join, and of course she was referred to Ruth.
In this way the girl of the Red Mill and the new pupil became better acquainted, and Ruth found opportunity very soon to ask Nettie about the pearl necklace that her Aunt Rachel had lost some months before.
Meanwhile, the girls, with their hand luggage, trooped down the long dock to theLanawaxa'sboarding-plank. Heavy Stone turned suddenly in the hot sunshine (for it was a glowing noon) to find two of the smaller girls mincing along in her very footsteps.
"I say! what are you two Infants following me so closely for?" she demanded.
"Please, Miss," giggled one of them, "mother told me to take Sadie for a nice long walk, but to be sure and keep her in the shade!"
This delighted the other girls immensely, for it was not often that anybody got ahead of the plump girl. She was too good-natured to take offense, however, and only grinned at them.
They all crowded aboard and sought seats on the upper deck of the steamer. Tom had met some of his friends who attended the Seven Oaks Military Academy, among them big Bob Steele and little Isadore Phelps.
Of course the boys joined the girls, and necessary introductions were made. Before theLanawaxapulled out of the dock, they were all having great fun.
"But how we will miss Madge!" was the general cry of the older girls, for Bobbins' sister no longer attended Briarwood Hall, and her absence would be felt indeed.
Not being under the immediate eye of his sharp-tongued sister, Bobbins showed his preference for Mercy Curtis, and spent a good deal of time at the lame girl's side. He was so big and she was so slight and delicate, that they made rather an odd-looking pair.
However, Bobbins enjoyed her sharp tongue and withstood her raillery. She called him "Fee-Fi-Fo-Fum" and made believe that she was verymuch afraid of him; yet it was noticeable that there was no venom in the sharp speeches the lame girl addressed to her big cavalier—and Mercy Curtis could be most unmerciful if she so desired!
Soon they were on the train again, and a short run to the Seven Oaks station, where the red brick barracks of the Military School frowned down upon the railroad from the heights above.
"I wouldn't go to school in such an ugly place," declared the girls.
Here is where they separated from their boy friends. A great, ramshackle bus, and another vehicle, were waiting at the end of the platform. An old man in a long duster stood beside the bus to help the girls in and see to their baggage. This was "Uncle Noah" Dolliver.
At once The Fox formed the girls into line, and keeping step to the march, they tramped the length of the platform, singing:
"Uncle Noah, he built an ark—One wide river to cross!And in it we have many a lark—One wide river to cross!One wide river!One wide river of Jordan!One wide river!One wide river to cross!
"The Sweetbriars get in, one by one—One wide river to cross!The last in line is Heavy Stone—One wide river to cross!"
And the plump girlwasthe last one to pop into the ancient equipage, filling the very last seat—tight!
"Lucky you brought along another wagon, Uncle Noah," said The Fox, as the remainder of the girls ran to the second vehicle.
Both of the wagons soon started. It was a hot and dusty afternoon and the girls were really crowded.
"I'm squeezed in so tight I can't think," moaned Helen.
"Ouch!" cried Belle Tingley. "That's my funny-bone you hit, Lluella, with your handbag. Oh! how funny it feels."
"Did you ever know why they call that thing in your elbow the funny bone?" asked Heavy, mighty serious.
"No," said Belle, rubbing the elbow vigorously.
"Why, it's what makes folks 'laugh in their sleeves,'" chuckled the plump girl.
"Oh, dear me! isn't she smart?" groaned Lluella.
"Almost as smart as my Cousin Bill," said The Fox, breaking into the conversation. "He won'tbe called 'Willie' and he'll answer only to 'Bill,' or 'William.'
"'William,' said the teacher one day to him in school, 'spell "ibex."'
"Bill jumps up and begins: 'I-b——'
"'Stop! stop, William!' cries the teacher. 'Where did you learn such grammar? Always say, "I am."'
"And do you know," chuckled Mary, "Bill sat down and gave up spelling the word—and he doesn't know how to spell 'ibex' yet!"
The sun had set, when they got out at the end of the Cedar Walk. Ruth, who had sat beside Nettie Parsons, went with her to the principal's office and introduced her to Mrs. Grace Tellingham.
Later Ruth joined her chums in the old West Dormitory. There were two quartette rooms side by side, in which were hatched most of the fun and good times that happened at Briarwood Hall. In one were Ruth, Helen, Mercy, and Ann Hicks, the girl from the west. The other had long been the room of The Fox, Heavy, Belle Tingley, and Lluella Fairfax.
Ann Hicks, right from Silver Ranch, was on hand to greet Ruth and the others, she having arrived at Briarwood the day before. She brought greetings from her Uncle Bill, Bashful Ike and his Sally.
The crowd quieted down at last. The last guilty shadows stole from room to room, and finally every girl sought her own bed. Ruth and Helen shared one of the big beds in their room, but they did not go to sleep at once. They could hear the quiet breathing of Mercy and Ann, but the chum's eyes were still wide open.
"That Nettie Parsons is a much nicer girl than I expected," whispered Helen.
"That is something I want to talk with you about," said Ruth, quickly.
"What?"
"Nettie Parsons. At least, something about her Aunt Rachel."
"Oh! the necklace," laughed Helen. "Are you really interested in it, Ruth?"
"She offered five thousand dollars' reward for it," continued Ruth, breathlessly. "She really did. And the reward still stands."
"Why, Ruthie!" exclaimed Helen, astonished. "Do you mean to say——"
"This is what I mean to say," said Ruth, with energy. "I mean that I'd love to win that reward. I believe I know what has become of the pearl necklace. In fact, Helen, I am very sure that I have seen the necklace."
CHAPTER XIXCAN IT BE POSSIBLE?
Ruth was thinking a great deal—it must be confessed!—about money during the first days of this new term at Briarwood Hall, and yet she was not naturally of a mercenary nature. Nor was she alone in this, for the advent of Nettie Parsons into the school quite turned the heads of many.
Nettie Parsons was the first multi-millionaire's daughter who had ever come to Briarwood Hall. Most of the girls' parents were well-to-do; otherwise they could not have afforded to pay the tuition fees, for Mrs. Grace Tellingham's institution was of considerable importance on the roster of boarding schools.
Many of the girls' parents, like Helen Cameron's father, were really wealthy. But Mr. Parsons was way above that! And with a certain class the mere fact of moneyasmoney, is cause enough for them to kneel down and worship!
After a time these "toadies" were disappointed in the daughter of the "sugar king." Nettie Parsons was a very commonplace, kindly girl, notat all brilliant, and dressed more plainly than the majority of the girls at Briarwood Hall.
Ruth's thoughts about money were not in the same lines as the thoughts of those girls so much interested in Nettie Parsons' riches. She neither envied the wealthy girl her possessions, nor desired to be like her.
What Ruth Fielding desired so keenly was independence. She wanted to control her own destiny, instead of being so beholden to Uncle Jabez Potter for everything. The sting of being an object of charity had gotten deeply into Ruth's heart. The old miller had an unfortunate way with him, which made the proud girl feel keenly her situation.
There was really no reason at all why the miller should take care of, and educate, his niece's child. He was not legally bound to do it. The kinship was not close enough for people to really expect Uncle Jabez to do all that he had for Ruth Fielding!
There had been times when the girl, through several fortunate circumstances, had been of real help to the miller. She had once helped recover some money he had lost when the freshet wrecked a part of the Red Mill. Again, it was through her that an investment in a mine in Montana had proved productive of gain for Uncle Jabez, instead of loss.
And now, only this summer, she had actually saved the miller's life.
Grudgingly, Uncle Jabez had paid these debts by keeping her at this expensive school and furnishing her with clothes and spending money. It was plain he had never approved of her being away from the mill during vacations, too.
Uncle Jabez saw no reason for young people "junketing about" and spending so much time in pleasure, as Ruth's friends did. Boys and girls learned to work, in his day, between short terms at school. It was all so different now, that the old man could not be blamed for misunderstanding.
For a girl to look forward to making a name for herself in the world—to have a career—to really be somebody—was something of which Uncle Jabez (and Aunt Alvirah as well) could not fail to disapprove.
Ruth desired to prepare for college, and in time enter a higher institution of learning. She wished, too, to cultivate her voice, and to use it in supporting herself later. She knew she could sing; she loved it, and the instructors at Briarwood encouraged her in the belief that she had a more than ordinarily fine contralto voice.
Uncle Jabez did not believe in such things. He would never be willing to invest money in making a singer of his niece. Useless to think of it!
Uncle Jabez had said that girls were of little use in the world, anyway—unless they settled down to housekeeping. The times Ruth had been of aid to him were, as he said, "just chancey."
It was of the reward for the return of the missing pearl necklace to Nettie Parsons' Aunt Rachel, that the girl of the Red Mill was thinking so continually, while the first days of this term at Briarwood slipped by. But five thousand dollars would grant Ruth Fielding the independence she craved!
Ruth and Helen Cameron had discussed the mystery of the pearl necklace in all its bearings—over and over again. All the "pros" and "cons" in the case had "been before the house," as Helen said, and it all came to the same answer: Could it be possible that Queen Zelaya, Roberto's grandmother, now had in her possession the necklace rightfully the property of Nettie Parsons' Aunt Rachel?
"That is, she had it," said Ruth, believing fully it was so, "if that awful man I saw spying on her, has not robbed the old woman and gotten away with the necklace. You know how he talked that day in the deserted house to the other Gypsy?"
"I guess I do!" exclaimed Helen. "Could I ever forget a single detail of that awful time?"
"And where are the Gypsies now?" said Ruth, feelingly. "Ah!thatis the question."
"Uncle Ike wrote father that they had been traced some distance toward the south," Helen returned, doubtfully.
"The south is a big section of the country," and Ruth wagged her head.
"Father was very angry," said Helen, "that the police did not find them, so that the whole tribe could be punished for what they did to us, I never saw father so angry before. He declared that the Gypsies should be taught a lesson, and that their escape was most inexcusable."
Ruth said nothing, but shook her head.
"You know the excuse the sheriff and that Constable Peck, at Severn Corners, gave?"
"Yes," nodded Ruth.
"If you had come right up to the village that night, when Roberto brought you to the farmhouse, and told where the camp was, they'd have nabbed the whole crowd, before they could have gotten over the state line."
"I know," murmured Ruth.
She was remembering Roberto's words as he left her that stormy night in sight of her refuge. He had asked not to be too hard on the Gypsies; therefore, she had not hurried to lodge information against Queen Zelaya and her tribe.
But if she had only known about this pearlnecklace! Nettie Parsons had described the jewel so clearly that the girl of the Red Mill could not for a moment doubt that the necklace in Zelaya's possession was the one for which the reward was offered.
"I tell you what I'll do, if you say the word," Helen said at last, seeing that her friend was really so much troubled about the affair.
"What's that, dear?"
"I'll write to father. Let me tell him all about you seeing the old woman handling the pearls, and then about this necklace that was lost by Nettie's aunt. He can advise you, at any rate."
So it was agreed. Helen wrote that very day. Inside of a week an answer came, and it quite excited Helen.
"What do you think?" she demanded of her chum. "Father has business that calls him to Lumberton in a few days. He will come here to see us. And he says for me to tell you to be sure and say nothing to anybody else about the missing necklace until he sees you."
"Of course I won't speak of it," replied Ruth. "I am not likely to. Oh, dear, Helen! if I could only win the reward that woman offers for the return of her necklace!"
It was not many days before Helen received the telegram announcing her father's coming to Lumberton, which was the nearest town to BriarwoodHall. She showed it to Mrs. Tellingham, and asked that she and Ruth be excused from lessons, when Mr. Cameron came, as he wished to drive the girls over to see Tom at Seven Oaks.
This was, of course, arranged. Mr. Cameron was a very busy man, and he could not spend much time in this visit. But he desired to speak to Ruth regarding the mystery of the pearl necklace.
He had hired a pair of spirited horses at Lumberton, and he quite had his hands full, as they bowled over the hilly road toward the military academy. But he could talk to the girls.
He had Ruth give him every particular of what she had seen at night in the Gypsy van, and when she had done so, he said:
"I have taken the pains to get from the police the description of Mrs. Rachel Parsons' missing necklace. It fits your tale exactly, Ruth. Now, I tell you what I shall do.
"I will set a detective agency at work. For my own part, I wish to overtake this Queen Zelaya, as she calls herself, and punish her for what she did to you two girls. If such people go free, it encourages them to do worse next time.
"Now, if she has the necklace, and we can secure it, all the better. I would be glad to see you get that reward, Ruthie. And Helen says you are very anxious to win it."
"Who wouldn't be?" gasped Ruth. "Just think of five thousand dollars!"
They were driving through a fine piece of chestnut wood as she said this. The blight had not struck these beautiful trees and they hung full of the prickly burrs. The frost of the previous night had opened many of these, and the brown nuts smiled at once through the openings.
"There's a boy knocking them down!" cried Helen. "Let's stop and get some, Father. See them rain down!"
At that moment a shower of chestnuts fell and a prickly burr landed on the back of one of the team. The beast rose on his hind legs and pawed the air, snorting.
"Look out!" exclaimed the boy in the tree.
Mr. Cameron was a good horseman and he had the animals well in hand. The boy, however, was so anxious to see what went on below, that he strained forward too far. With a scream, and the snap of broken boughs, he plunged forward, shot through the leafy-canopy, and landed with a sickening thud upon the ground!
Mr. Cameron had halted the horses dead. Ruth was out of the carriage like a flash and dropped on her knees by the boy's side. She was horror-stricken and speechless; yet she had made a great discovery as the boy fell.
He was Roberto, the Gypsy!
CHAPTER XXHE CANNOT TALK
"Is he badly hurt?" cried Mr. Cameron, who dared not get down and leave the horses just then.
"Don't tell us he is killed, Ruthie!" wailed Helen, clasping her hands and unable to leave the carriage.
The Gypsy boy lay very still. One arm was bent under him in such a queer position that the girl of the Red Mill knew it must be broken. His olive face was pallid, and there was a little blood on his lips.
She dared not move him. She bent down and put her ear to his chest. His heart was beating—he breathed!
"He's alive!" she said, turning to her friends in the carriage. "But I am afraid he is badly hurt. At least, one arm——"
The youth groaned. Ruth turned toward him with a tender little cry. She thought his eyelids quivered, but they were not opened.
"What will we do with him? He ought tobe taken to a hospital. Where's the nearest doctor?" asked Mr. Cameron.
"Lumberton," said Ruth, promptly. "And that is the only place where there is a hospital around here."
"Back we must go, then," declared Mr. Cameron, promptly. "We sha'n't see Master Tom to-day, that's sure. You get out, Helen, and I'll turn around."
Helen ran to her friend who still hovered over the boy. At once she recognized him.
"My goodness me! Roberto! isn't that strange? Then he did not go south with the other Gypsies."
"It seems not—poor fellow," returned Ruth.
"Do you suppose he knows all about the necklace—how his grandmother became possessed of it, and all?"
"I don't know. I am sure Roberto is quite honest himself," returned Ruth. "He is not a thief like those wicked men who were talking that day in the old house, and who seem to have so much influence in the Gypsy camp."
"I don't care!" exclaimed Helen, warmly. "I am sorry for Roberto. But I hope fatherdoessend detectives after the Gyps., and that they catch and punish that horrid old woman. How mean she was to us!"
"Sh!" warned Ruth.
Roberto gave no sign of returning consciousness now. That puzzled the girl of the Red Mill, for she had thought he was just about to come to.
Mr. Cameron turned the carriage and halted it beside the spot where the boy lay. "Of course you two girls can't lift him?" he said.
"Of course we can!" returned his daughter, promptly. "Oh! Ruth and I haven't been doing gym. work for two years for nothing. Just watch us."
"Easy!" murmured Ruth, warningly, as Helen seized the youth's legs. "Perhaps he has more than a broken arm."
"But he must be lifted," said Helen. "Come on, now! He isn't conscious, and perhaps we can get him into the carriage before he wakes up."
And they did. Roberto did not seem to be conscious, and yet, to Ruth's surprise, the color came and went in the boy's cheeks, and his black brows knitted a little. It was just as though hewereconscious and was endeavoring to endure the pain he felt without moaning.
They got him into the carriage in as comfortable a position as possible. Ruth sat beside him, while Helen joined her father on the front seat. Then the gentleman let the spirited team go, and they dashed off over the road toward Lumberton.
At once Helen told her father who the injuredyouth was. Having heard all the details of his young folks' adventures on the road to Boisé Landing, Mr. Cameron knew just who Roberto was, and he saw the importance of learning from him, if possible, where his clan had gone.
"We want to know especially what has become of the old woman—the queen," Mr. Cameron said. "I can't help it, if sheisthe boy's grandmother, she is a wicked woman. Besides, we want to get back that necklace for Mrs. Parsons."
Unfortunately, it would be impossible for the dry goods merchant to remain in Lumberton to watch the case. He had to return that very evening, and could not spare the time now to see Tom.
He arranged at the hospital for Roberto to be given every care, and left some money with Helen and Ruth for them to purchase little luxuries for the boy when he should become convalescent.
He waited until after the doctors had made their examination and learned that Roberto not only suffered from a broken arm, but had two ribs broken and his right leg badly wrenched.
Mr. Cameron wrote a note to Mrs. Tellingham, asking that Helen and Ruth might visit the hospital every day or two to see how the patient fared.
"Besides," said Ruth, eagerly, "I may get him to talk. Perhaps he has deserted his tribe forgood, and he may help us learn about the necklace."
"You want to be very careful in trying to pump the lad," said Mr. Cameron, with a smile.
He need not have feared on this point, however, as it turned out. The very next afternoon Ruth and Helen hurried in to Lumberton to make inquiries at the hospital. They saw the head physician and he was frankly puzzled about Roberto.
"I thought I had had every kind of a case in my experience," said the surgeon, "but there's something about this one that puzzles me."
"Is he more hurt than you thought?" cried Ruth, anxiously.
"I don't know. It seems that we have found all his injuries that are apparent. But there is one we cannot reach. Something is the matter with his speech."
"His speech?" gasped Helen.
"You have heard him speak?"
"Of course!"
"Then he is not naturally dumb——"
"Dumb?" repeated Helen, in wonderment. "You don't mean that he is dumb?"
"I mean just that. It appears that since his fall yesterday, he cannot talk at all," said the doctor.
CHAPTER XXIRUTH INTERCEDES
The two girls did not see Roberto that day, nor for several days following. The hospital authorities did not think it best to allow him to be excited even in a mild way.
They sent in such delicacies as the nurse said he could have, and Tony Foyle was bribed by Helen to get a report from the hospital every day about the young Gypsy.
The girls kept very quiet about the patient in the hospital. Their mates knew only that Helen and Ruth had been driving with Mr. Cameron when the boy fell out of the tree. They did not dream that the victim of the accident had any possible connection with the pearl necklace that Nettie Parsons' aunt had lost!
Helen kept her father informed of the progress of Roberto's case, and in return he wrote Helen that the detectives were confident of reaching old Queen Zelaya and her tribe.
"But if we could only get Roberto to talk!" sighed Ruth.
"Why, Ruth Fielding! if the poor fellow hasbeen made speechless by that fall, howcanhe talk?"
"I know, but——"
"Don't you believe it isso?"
"Why—yes," admitted Ruth. "Of course, he would have no reason for refusing to speak. And they say he has a hard time making them understand what he wants, for he doesn't know how to write. Poor fellow! I suppose he never realized before, that the art of writing was of any use tohim."
In a week or so the girls were allowed to go to the ward where Roberto lay. Helen carried an armful of good things for the Gypsy lad to eat, but Ruth remembered that he had not cared much for delicacies, and she carried picture papers and a great armful of brilliant fall flowers—some picked by herself in the woods, and the others begged from Tony Foyle.
"Taking flowers to a boy—pshaw!" scoffed Helen. "Why, that shows you have no brother, Ruthie. Tom wouldn't look at flowers when he's sick."
Ruth believed she had made no mistake. When they approached the bed in which Roberto lay, he looked very pale indeed, and the expression of weariness on his face as he stared out of the distant window, made Ruth's heart ache for the captive wild-boy.
"Here are visitors for you, Robert," said the kindly nurse.
The big, black eyes of the Gypsy boy rolled toward the two girls. Then his face lit up and his eyes sparkled. They were fixed eagerly on the mass of brilliant blossoms Ruth carried. She scattered the flowers over the coverlet, and Roberto seized some of them, fairly pressing them to his lips. He nodded and smiled at the display of Helen's offerings, too, but he could not keep his eyes away from the flowers. He had been homesick for his beloved woodlands.
He was still in plaster and could not move much. He did his best to make the girls understand how welcome they were, but not a sound came from his lips.
"A very strange case, indeed," said the doctor in charge, when the girls came down from the ward. "There seems to be absolutely no reason why he does not speak. Apparently no paralysis of the vocal cords. But speechless he is. And as he cannot read or write, it is a nuisance."
"It isn't possible that for some reason he doesn'twishto speak?" queried Ruth, doubtfully.
"Why, Ruth! there you go again!" exclaimed Helen. "I never knew you to be so suspicious."
The doctor laughed. "I think not," he said. "Of course, he might, but he must be a wonderfullygood actor. The next time you come, we shall try him."
So on a subsequent call of the two girls at the hospital, the doctor entered the ward at the same time they did and likewise approached Roberto's bed, only on the opposite side. Ruth had brought more flowers, and the boy was evidently delighted.
"Are you sure you can't speak to me, Roberto?" asked Ruth, softly, as he nodded and smiled and clasped the flowers to his breast with his one good hand.
Roberto shook his head sadly, and his black eyes showed every indication of sorrow. But of a sudden he jumped, and a spasm of pain crossed his face. The doctor straightened up and Roberto scowled at him wrathfully. The boy had not uttered a sound.
"I jabbed him with this needle," said the doctor, with disgust. "You see, either he has perfect control over himself; or he absolutely cannot speak. While I was setting his arm and fixing up his smashed ribs, he only moaned a little."
"Oh!" Helen had gasped, looking at the medical man in some wrath.
"Don't do it again—not forme," urged Ruth. "I am sorry I said anything about it."
"Oh, he isn't seriously injured bythat," said the surgeon, holding up the needle. "But I do not think he is 'playing possum.'"
"It isn't possible!" exclaimed Helen, confidently.
"And how long must he lie here?" Ruth asked.
"Oh, in a fortnight he'll be as fine as a fiddle. Of course, he won't be able to use his arm much for several weeks. But the ribs will knit all right. Maybe he can find some light job——"
"We'll see aboutthat," Helen interrupted.
"I can see you young ladies are much interested in him," chuckled the doctor. "And not entirely because he is a handsome, black-eyed rascal, eh?"
Ruth knew that old Tony Foyle, the gardener at Briarwood Hall, was interested in the lad. He had gone up to the ward to see Roberto several times, and came away enthusiastic in the Gypsy's praise.
"Sure," said Tony, to Ruth, "he's jist the bye after me hear-r-t. Herself would like him, he's that doomb!"
"Herself" was Tony's wife, who was the cook at Briarwood Hall.
"And the way that boy do be lovin' flowers! Sure, his bed in the horspital is jest covered wid 'em. He'd be a handy lad to have here ter give me aid, so he would. An' I been tellin' Mis' Tellingham that I need another helper."
"We'll get him the job, Tony!" cried Ruth, in delight. "I believe he would like to help around your hothouse and the beds. I'll see."
She interceded with the principal for Roberto, and obtained her promise that the Gypsy boy should have the job. Then she sounded Roberto himself, and by the way his eyes lit up and he smiled and nodded, Ruth knew he would be delighted to be Tony Foyle's assistant.
"At least," thought Ruth, "I can keep in sight of him for a time. Perhaps he couldn't tell us, anyway, where Queen Zelaya has hidden herself. But I believe he knows, and I haven't much faith in the results those detectives get."
Roberto mended rapidly. He was soon up and about the ward, when the girls called. He was less restless than Ruth expected him to be, and he still signified his intention of coming to help the little old Irish gardener at Briarwood Hall.
"When he recovers his powers of speech," said the doctor, "it will be as suddenly as he lost them. No doubt of that. But it is a most puzzling case. I am glad he is not going far from Lumberton. I want to watch the progress of the affair."
The next day Roberto came to Briarwood.