CHAPTER XX--THE WOLF AT THE DOOR
Ruth had the old coat folded and under the sick man's head again whenJib returned with a rusty old bucket filled with water. He set it downjust outside the open door of the cabin--and he did not come in.
"What d'ye s'pose he's got in the pocket of that coat that he's sochoice of, Miss?" he asked, curiously.
"Why! I don't know," returned Ruth, wetting her cleanest handkerchiefand folding it to press upon the patient's brow.
"He hollered like a loon and grabbed at it when I tried to straighten itout," the Indian said, thoughtfully. "And so he did when you touchedit."
"Yes."
"He's got something hid there. It bothers him even if he is delirious."
"Perhaps," admitted Ruth.
But she was not interested in this suspicion. The condition of the poorfellow was uppermost in her mind.
"You let me have your pistol, Jib," she said. "I can use it. It willkeep that old coyote away."
"And anything else, too," said Jib, handing the gun to her and thenstepping back to his pony. "I'll hobble your critter, Miss. Don't go farfrom the door. I'll either come back myself or send a couple of the boysfrom camp. They will bring food, anyway. I reckon the poor chap's hungryas well as thirsty."
"He is in a very bad way, indeed," returned Ruth, gravely. "You'llhurry, Jib?"
"Sure. But you'd better come back with me."
"No. I'm in for it now," she replied, trying to smile at him bravely."I'd better nurse him till he's better, or----"
"You ain't got no call to do it!" exclaimed the Indian.
"There is more reason for my helping him than you know," she said, in alow voice. "Oh! there is a very good reason for my helping him."
"He's too far gone to be helped much, I reckon," returned the other,mounting into his saddle. "But I'll be going. Take care of yourself."
"I'll be all right, Jib!" she responded, with more cheerfulness, andwaved her hand to him as the cow puncher rode away.
But when the patter of the pony's hoofs had died away the silencebrooding over the abandoned mining camp seemed very oppressive indeed.It was not a pleasant prospect that lay before her. Not only was shealone here with the sick man, but she _was_ afraid of catching thefever.
The patient on the couch was indeed helpless. He muttered and rolled hishead from side to side, and his wild eyes stared at her as though hewere fearful of what she might do to him. Ruth bathed his face and handsagain and again; and the cool water seemed to quiet him. Occasionallyshe raised his head that he might drink. There was nothing else shecould do for his comfort or betterment until medicines arrived.
She searched the cabin for anything which might belong to him. She didnot find his rifle--the weapon with which he had killed the bear in thecanyon when Ruth had been in such peril. She did find, however, a wornwater-proof knapsack; in it was a handkerchief, or two, a pair of tornsocks and an old shirt, beside shaving materials, a comb and brush, anda toothbrush. Not a letter or a scrap of paper to reveal his identity.Yet she was confident that this was the man whom she had hoped to meetwhen she came West on this summer jaunt.
This was the fellow who had encouraged Uncle Jabez to invest his savingsin the Tintacker Mine. It was he, too, who had been to Bullhide andrecorded the new papers relating to the claim. And if he had made waywith all Uncle Jabez's money, and the mining property was worthless,Ruth knew that she would never see Briarwood Hall again!
For Uncle Jabez had let her understand plainly that his resources wereso crippled that she could not hope to return to school with her friendswhen the next term opened. Neither she, nor Aunt Alvirah, nor anybodyelse, could make the old miller change his mind. He had given her oneyear at the boarding school according to agreement. Uncle Jabez alwaysdid just as he said he would; but he was never generous, and seldom evenkind.
However, it was not this phase of the affair that so troubled the girlfrom the Red Mill. It was the identity of this fever-stricken man thatso greatly disturbed her. She believed that there was somebody at SilverRanch who must have a much deeper interest in him than even she felt.And she was deeply troubled by this suspicion. Was she doing right innot sending word to the ranch at once as to her belief in the identityof the man?
The morning was now gone and Ruth would have been glad of some dinner;but in leaving the other herders she and Jib had not expected to remainso many hours from the Rolling River crossing. At least, they expectedif they found the man at Tintacker at all, that he would have played thehost and supplied them with lunch. Had Jib been here she knew he couldeasily have shot a bird, or a hare; there was plenty of small gameabout. But had she not felt it necessary to remain in close attendanceupon the sick man she would have hesitated about going to the outskirtsof the camp. Even the possession of Jib's loaded pistol did not make thegirl feel any too brave.
Already that morning she had been a witness to the fact that savagebeasts lurked in the locality. There might be another puma about. Shewas not positively in fear of the coyotes; she knew them to be acowardly clan. But what would keep a bear from wandering down from theheights into the abandoned camp? And Ruth had seen quite all the bearsat close quarters that she wished to see. Beside, this six-shooter ofJib's would be a poor weapon with which to attack a full-grown bear.
It must be late in the afternoon before any of the boys could ride overfrom the Rolling River outfit. She set her mind firmly on _that_, andwould not hope for company till then. It was a lonely and trying watch.The sick man moaned and jabbered, and whenever she touched the old coathe used for a pillow, he became quite frantic. Perhaps, as Jibintimated, there was something valuable hidden in the garment.
"Deeds--or money--perhaps both," thought the girl nurse. "And maybe theyrelate to the Tintacker Mine. Perhaps if it is money it is some ofUncle's money. Should I try to take it away from him secretly and keepit until he can explain?"
Yet she could not help from thinking that perhaps Jib was right in hisdiagnosis of the case. The man might be too far gone to save. Neitherphysician nor medicines might be able to retard the fever. It seemed tohave already worn the unfortunate to his very skeleton. If he died,would the mystery of the Tintacker Mine, and of Uncle Jabez's money,ever be explained?
Meanwhile she bathed and bathed again the fevered face and hands of theunfortunate. This was all that relieved him. He was quiet for someminutes after each of these attentions. The water in the bucket becamewarm, like that in the canteen. Ruth thought she could risk going to therivulet for another supply. So she stuck the barrel of the gun into herbelt and taking the empty pail set out to find the stream.
She closed the door of the sick man's cabin very carefully. It was notfar to the water and she had filled the pail and was returning when sheheard a scratching noise nearby, and then a low growl. Casting swiftglances of apprehension all about her, she started to run to the cabin;but when she got to the trail, it was at the cabin door the peril lay!
It was no harmless, cowardly coyote this time. Perhaps it had not been acoyote who had dug there when she and Jib rode up to the camp. Sheobtained this time a clear view of the beast.
It was long, lean and gray. A shaggy beast, with pointed ears and a longmuzzle. When he turned and glared at her, growling savagely, Ruth washeld spellbound in her tracks!
"A wolf!" she muttered. "A wolf at the door!"
The fangs of the beast were exposed. The jaws dripped saliva, and theeyes seemed blood-red. A more awful sight the girl had never seen. Thisfierce, hungry creature was even more terrifying in appearance than thebear that had chased her in the canyon. He seemed, indeed, more savageand threatening than the puma that Jib had roped that forenoon as theyrode over to Tintacker.
He turned squarely and faced her. He was not afraid, but seemed towelcome her as an antagonist worthy of his prowess. He did not advance,but he stood between Ruth and the door of the sick man's cabin. Shemight retreat, but in so doing she would abandon the unfortunate to hisfate. And what that fate would be she could
not doubt when once she hadglimpsed the savage aspect of the wolf.
Ruth Fielding at Silver Ranch; Or, Schoolgirls Among the Cowboys Page 20
