e was with her and picked
up the heavy implement.

"I hope they don't come hunting for us," said the girl of the Red Mill,
breathlessly.

"We must take that risk. Come on, Ruth. Or do you want me to take it down
to the brookside alone?"

"I want to go along, too. Oh, dear! I do hope he will find it."

"I have another cracker box full of food for him," said Tom. "I reckon he
will be on the lookout for the pick, so he'll find the food, too."

After a good deal of climbing, they reached the flat rock by the brookside
where Jerry Sheming had requested Ruth to leave the mattock. There was no
sign of the fugitive about. Ruth did not tell Tom where the mouth of the
secret tunnel lay--nor did Tom ask for information.

As they hurried back, mounting the ridge that separated the lodge and its
outbuildings from the middle of the island, Ruth, looking back, suddenly
grabbed Tom's hand.

"See! see there!" she cried.

Tom looked in the direction to which she pointed. The stars gave light
enough for them to see miles across the ice. Several black figures were
hurrying toward the western end of the island from the direction of the
mainland--the southern shore of the lake.

"Who do you suppose those men are?" asked Ruth, faintly.

Tom shook his head slowly. "I expect it's Lem Daggett, the constable, and
others to hunt for poor Jerry. I feel almost sure that the man in the
lead is Daggett."

"Isn't that mean?" exclaimed Ruth, her voice shaking.

"It is. But I don't believe they will find Jerry very easily."

Just the same, Ruth was not to be comforted. She was very quiet all the
rest of the evening. Her absence, and Tom's, had not been noticed. The
crowd went to bed before eleven, having spent a most delightful Christmas
Eve.

Ruth sat at a window that overlooked a part of the island. Once she saw
the men who had crossed from the mainland climbing the hill toward the
lone pine.

"I hope they won't find a trace of him!" she murmured as she popped into
bed.

Ruth slept as soundly a