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“Ruth Fielding in Alaska.” Page [147]

Ruth Fielding
in Alaska
OR
THE GIRL MINERS OF SNOW
MOUNTAIN

BY
ALICE B. EMERSON

Author of “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,” “Ruth
Fielding at Golden Pass,” “Betty Gordon
Series,” etc.

ILLUSTRATED

NEW YORK
CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY
PUBLISHERS

Books for Girls

BY ALICE B. EMERSON

12mo. Cloth. Illustrated.

RUTH FIELDING SERIES

RUTH FIELDING OF THE RED MILL
RUTH FIELDING AT BRIARWOOD HALL
RUTH FIELDING AT SNOW CAMP
RUTH FIELDING AT LIGHTHOUSE POINT
RUTH FIELDING AT SILVER RANCH
RUTH FIELDING ON CLIFF ISLAND
RUTH FIELDING AT SUNRISE FARM
RUTH FIELDING AMONG THE GYPSIES
RUTH FIELDING IN MOVING PICTURES
RUTH FIELDING DOWN IN DIXIE
RUTH FIELDING AT COLLEGE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE SADDLE
RUTH FIELDING IN THE RED CROSS
RUTH FIELDING AT THE WAR FRONT
RUTH FIELDING HOMEWARD BOUND
RUTH FIELDING DOWN EAST
RUTH FIELDING IN THE GREAT NORTHWEST
RUTH FIELDING ON THE ST. LAWRENCE
RUTH FIELDING TREASURE HUNTING
RUTH FIELDING IN THE FAR NORTH
RUTH FIELDING AT GOLDEN PASS
RUTH FIELDING IN ALASKA

BETTY GORDON SERIES

BETTY GORDON AT BRAMBLE FARM
BETTY GORDON IN WASHINGTON
BETTY GORDON IN THE LAND OF OIL
BETTY GORDON AT BOARDING SCHOOL
BETTY GORDON AT MOUNTAIN CAMP
BETTY GORDON AT OCEAN PARK
BETTY GORDON AND HER SCHOOL CHUMS
BETTY GORDON AT RAINBOW RANCH
BETTY GORDON IN MEXICAN WILDS

Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York

Copyright, 1926, by
Cupples & Leon Company

Ruth Fielding in Alaska

Printed in U. S. A.

CONTENTS

RUTH FIELDING
IN ALASKA

CHAPTER I
THE THREAT

“The contents of the missive appear to worry you, Ruth, my love. If that scowl should freeze on your face, your beauty would be marred forever.”

Stretched full length on the grass beneath a tree whose branches spread a grateful shade, Helen Cameron regarded her friend with an amused and interested smile. As the latter appeared not to notice her sally, she tried again.

“Can’t you tell me what dreadful news the letter contains?”

Ruth Fielding thus questioned, looked up slowly and sighed. She gestured with the hand that held her letter.

“It’s from that horrid Bloomberg, Helen,” she said.

“Sol Bloomberg!” Immediately interested, Helen sat up with a jerk and hugged her knees, gazing expectantly at her chum. “Don’t tell me he, too, has fallen a victim to your charms, Ruthie Fielding!”

“Don’t be silly.” Ruth spoke in a vague, preoccupied voice. “As a matter of fact,” she added ruefully, “I imagine whatever feeling Sol Bloomberg has for me is far from a tender one.”

“Then, what on earth is he writing to you about?” Helen was genuinely curious. “You aren’t thinking of entering into a business deal with him, are you?”

Ruth chuckled.

“That deduction is even more absurd than the first one, Helen Cameron. The mere idea of doing business with——”

“That hard-boiled cheat?” suggested Helen amiably.

“Such language! Nevertheless, Sol Bloomberg is all of that——”

“And then some!” murmured Helen irrepressibly.

“Do you know what he says in this letter?”

“I’ve been trying for some time to find out.”

“He threatens me!” Ruth, sitting cross-legged on the ground, waved the offending letter for further emphasis. “He actually has the nerve to threaten me!”

“So you said before.”

“Well, if you are going to be tiresome——”

“I’m not, Ruthie darling. Honest, I’m not. I’m only furiously interested. What is our old friend Sol threatening you for?”

“Spite mostly, I suppose,” returned Ruth, relapsing once more into her thoughtful mood. “He wants to frighten me and spoil my pleasure in the new picture that we filmed at Golden Pass.”

“I hear he has been practically run out of the pictures,” observed Helen, absently chewing on a bit of grass.

Ruth nodded.

“And of course he blames that all on me.”

“But how can he?” Helen swept back her pretty hair in a puzzled gesture. “Surely all his troubles have been caused by his own cheating and double-dealing.”

“Of course they have,” Ruth agreed. “It was Bloomberg, you remember, who lured Viola Callahan away from the lead in my picture when he knew to do such a thing at that time would almost certainly ruin the whole thing——”

“And you fooled him by taking the lead yourself and making a better leading lady than Viola Callahan ever could,” chuckled Helen.

Ruth tried to bow, which in her cross-legged position was rather a hard thing to do. Then she frowned and fell silent while she reviewed the details of her quarrel with Bloomberg.

It all began when she engaged Layton Boardman, an ex-star of Bloomberg’s, to play the lead in her new Western picture. Though Bloomberg and Boardman had quarreled, Bloomberg really wanted to renew the actor’s contract, though at a salary that no actor of Boardman’s reputation would care to accept.

When the Fielding Film Company signed up Bloomberg’s ex-star at a good salary, the producer was furious. In retaliation he later tempted Viola Callahan, Ruth’s leading lady, to come over to him at a time when Miss Callahan’s desertion would almost certainly ruin Ruth’s picture.

The fact that Ruth’s picture was not ruined and to avert the catastrophe she had taken the lead herself—and successfully—had only served to increase Bloomberg’s dislike of her.

Bloomberg’s own picture, featuring Viola Callahan, was a failure. This, coupled with the unsavory story of his treachery to the Fielding Film Company, Ruth’s producing company, served to ruin what shreds of fortune and reputation he had and practically forced him out of the producing end of the business.

Ruth supposed, ruefully, that Bloomberg blamed all his misfortunes upon her because she had dared to sign up Layton Boardman when the latter was not under contract to Bloomberg or any one else and was absolutely free to accept any offer that was made him.

“I observed,” drawled Helen, after a considerable silence, “that you made a love of a leading lady, Ruthie.”

“Thanks, whether I deserve the compliment or not!” was Ruth’s laughing reply to Helen’s remark. “Anyway, the fact remains that despite all Bloomberg’s crooked schemes and double-crossing we managed to triumph in the end, while he——”

“Broke his professional neck,” finished Helen. “I wish it had been his real one!” she added, with a fierce look that brought a laugh from Ruth.

“You are getting quite bloodthirsty, Helen Cameron,” she said. “But at the risk of appearing bloodthirsty myself, I don’t mind saying that I wish that something not too dreadful would befall our rascally friend; enough, at any rate, to remove him gently from my life at present. I have quite enough problems to face without worrying about Sol Bloomberg!”

“Don’t let it bother you, honey,” said Helen, stretching out lazily again upon the soft grass. “Just how does he threaten you?” she added, with a gesture toward the crumpled letter in Ruth’s hand.

“He says he may bring suit against me,” Ruth replied.

“Humph! For what?” Helen retorted. “If anybody ought to bring suit, it’s you, Ruthie. The man must be crazy.”

“I believe he is—with fury,” said Ruth thoughtfully. “It’s natural for a man down and out, as Bloomberg is, to rail at the successful, and in this case he chooses me to vent his spite on.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t lie awake nights worrying about him,” counseled Helen. “What could a failure like Bloomberg do to you whose reputation is so well established?”

“I don’t know,” said Ruth, playing absently with the letter. “But this much I can see. I have made a bitter, vindictive enemy of this man, and I feel that he will leave no stone unturned to do me an injury. Anyway,” she added, in a lighter tone, “I don’t intend to worry until I have something more substantial to go on than this letter. It would be a shame to spoil a day like this—and our ride.”

“Looks as if we weren’t going to get a ride,” grumbled Helen. She propped herself up on one elbow and scanned the dusty road that wound along near the Red Mill. “We appear to be forgotten, Ruth Fielding. Jilted!”

“Not as bad as that, I guess,” laughed Ruth. “It really is barely time for the boys, you know.”

Tom Cameron, Helen’s twin brother, and Chess Copley, Helen’s fiancé, had suggested an auto ride to the two girls. Since the day was sultry and hot, the girls had readily accepted the invitation.

Helen had lunched with Ruth, and now the chums had repaired to the shaded grounds about the old house to await the arrival of the boys.

Ruth had decided to peruse her morning mail, and among the letters had found the annoying one from Sol Bloomberg.

The letter reminded the girls forcibly of Ruth’s last venture in motion picture-making in which the latter had forced her way to success despite the machinations of this same Bloomberg, and in so doing had made of the unsuccessful producer a bitter and revengeful enemy.

Now she tore the paper into tiny bits and with a challenging little flirt of her fingers scattered the pieces to the four winds. This accomplished, Ruth felt better, as though, in the act of tearing up the letter, she had destroyed the potency of Bloomberg’s threat as well.

But Sol Bloomberg was not a scrap of paper to be so easily disposed of. His enmity was something to be reckoned with, as Ruth was to learn full well and to her cost in the days to follow.

But now, as Helen called out that the boys were coming, Ruth put all premonition of trouble from her mind. For that afternoon at least, she was determined to leave “shop” behind her.

Tom Cameron had no sooner stepped from the car than she saw there was some news of an important nature for her. He came to her directly and held out a yellow envelope.

“Telegram,” he said laconically. “They were just sending it out from the office when I came along and thought I’d save them the trouble.”

“Thanks, Tom,” and then with a whimsical glance at Helen: “I wonder if this is another message from Bloomberg!”

The others stood by with interest while Ruth tore open the yellow envelope. There were so many changes and surprises in the life of this talented girl, who combined in one person director, author and screen actress, that her friends were kept continually agog with interest.

Ruth’s eyes ran hastily through the message. She gave a little cry of amazement and thrust the telegram toward Tom.

“It’s from Mr. Hammond,” she said in explanation to Chess Copley and Helen. “He is in business difficulties of some sort——”

“And he wants you to come to New York at once!” ejaculated Tom, looking up from the telegram. “Now, Ruth Fielding, what do you intend to do about that?”

CHAPTER II
ALL BUSINESS

Ruth Fielding sank to the grass and stared at the others, her forehead wrinkling in a puzzled frown.

“I don’t know,” she said, in response to Tom’s question. “There are really a hundred things I ought to do right here——”

“Oh, there always are, Ruthie,” broke in Helen flippantly. “You are so busy all the time it makes me weary just to see you work. Why turn down a perfectly exciting trip to New York—especially when duty calls you?”

“Do you really think it is my duty to go, Tom?” Ruth’s eyes appealed to Helen’s twin brother as he stood thoughtfully reading over the telegram. Tom was Ruth’s business partner in the Fielding Film Company, and since the young fellow claimed a strictly personal interest in her as well, the girl had formed the habit of consulting him in all things.

“I suppose you ought, really,” replied Tom. “Mr. Hammond has been a very good friend of yours—of ours—Ruth, and I don’t see how in the world you can ignore an appeal like this.”

“You see!” cried Helen triumphantly. “I knew he’d agree with me! That’s what twin brothers are for!”

“Just what does Mr. Hammond have to say about his financial embarrassments?” asked Chess Copley. “Does he go into any details?”

“He can’t very well in a telegram,” Ruth replied. “Here,” taking the telegram from Tom and handing it over to Chess, “read for yourself and form your own conclusions.”

This was the message Helen and Chess read together.

“Am in great difficulties concerning production of Girl of Gold. Can you come to New York immediately? Unable to leave city.”

“J. A. Hammond.”

“The Girl of Gold,” Tom was ruminating aloud. “Wasn’t that the Western picture there was such keen competition over?”

“Yes,” returned Ruth eagerly. “The script was taken from the novel, you know, that made such a tremendous hit.”

“And the scenes were laid in the gold fields of Alaska,” Helen added as her contribution. “I remember the book. It certainly was a thriller.”

“The picture ought to be just as good,” said Ruth thoughtfully. “I know Mr. Hammond hoped great things from it.”

“I wonder what the difficulties are he speaks about,” said Tom.

Ruth shook her head.

“That we can only find out by a personal interview,” she said. “But one thing I do know—that whatever his trouble is, it must be pretty bad or he would never have sent this hurried call to me. What shall I do, Tom?”

“I know what you’ll do,” said Helen, with decision. “You will pack your things and take the next train to New York. I know Ruth Fielding,” with a fond little squeeze of Ruth’s hand, “and my experience of her is, that she never deserts a friend in distress. How about it, Tommy-boy?”

Since Helen was one of the very first friends Ruth Fielding had ever had, her prophecy of Ruth’s future action in regard to Mr. Hammond was apt to prove a fairly accurate one. For since Ruth, a little girl of twelve and an orphan, came to the house at the Red Mill to live with her Uncle Jabez Potter and his sweet-tempered housekeeper, Aunt Alvirah Boggs, Ruth Fielding and Helen Cameron had been the warmest and closest of friends.

In point of fact, Tom was probably Ruth’s oldest friend, since she had met him first and through him, his twin sister, Helen.

The Red Mill was situated just outside the town of Cheslow. About a mile away in a handsome big house Helen and Tom Cameron lived with their father, who was a widower and wealthy. In the first volume of the series, entitled “Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill,” is narrated the meeting of these young people and their subsequent adventures.

Uncle Jabez Potter was something of a miser and a crabbed old soul to boot. However, when Ruth contrived to save the old man a considerable amount of money, his heart relented to the extent of permitting Ruth to enter boarding school with Helen Cameron. Looking backward, Ruth always felt that all her good times and adventures dated from those good old days at Briarwood.

At school and college Ruth’s friends were numerous, but none were ever quite as dear to her as Helen. While still engaged in school work, Ruth developed her talent for scenario writing, and from that small beginning commenced the steady climb that was to lead eventually to her present success.

Ruth’s school and college friends, interested in the triumphs of their schoolmate and basking in reflected glory, continued to keep in touch with her even after the close association of school days was at an end. A group of them had come on to Cheslow to be present at the opening night of “Snow-blind,” one of Ruth’s recent pictures, which had proved a tremendous success.

It was Mr. Hammond, owner and director of the Alectrion Film Corporation, who had first given Ruth her chance and who had never afterward failed in kind encouragement and backing. Even when Ruth, realizing that she had unusual gifts not only in scenario writing but in directing as well, decided to break away from Mr. Hammond and organize her own company, the latter had backed her project whole-heartedly, evincing only sympathy and an inspiring belief in her ability.

Small wonder then that, upon receipt of this telegram from her old friend telling of his difficulties and soliciting her aid, Ruth found it practically impossible to refuse him.

In the volume directly preceding this, entitled, “Ruth Fielding at Golden Pass,” it was Mr. Hammond himself who had suggested that Ruth take the lead when her leading lady, at the instigation of Bloomberg, deserted the company at the last minute.

So now her question to Tom, asking for his advice, was more a matter of form than anything else. Since the latter had secretly invested a considerable amount of money in her new and struggling little business just when she was most desperately in need of help, gratitude had been added to an already warm feeling for Helen’s twin brother.

There had been an understanding between these two young people for some time. For Tom’s sturdy liking for the girl from the Red Mill had developed into something more ardent as Ruth grew to womanhood. But as Ruth grew, her ambition grew also. The temptation to determine just how far her talent would carry her in the motion picture business was too great for Ruth to resist. So while returning Tom’s affection, the girl put him off time and time again, pleading her career as an excuse.

Tom was very patient. He could appreciate Ruth’s enthusiasm, since he himself had become so vitally interested in pictures. He had as well, a sincere regard for the girl’s ability.

However, waiting is often very hard, and time and again it was only Ruth’s appreciation of his patience and forbearance that kept Tom from open revolt.

So now it was just another example of this same patience and forbearance when, in reply to Ruth’s question concerning Mr. Hammond, he said without hesitation:

“Of course you’ll have to go, Ruth. Under the circumstances you couldn’t do anything else.”

Ruth gave him a grateful glance.

“But you will go, too, Tommy-boy? As my business partner I demand that you accompany me!”

Tom grinned.

“You don’t need to demand,” he assured her. “I was going anyway.”

“And I’ll be your chaperon, Ruthie,” said Helen amiably. “I’m quite sure you need one.”

Ruth chuckled.

“I don’t know whether to take that as an insult or not,” she said. “However, I’d love to have you come along if you care to.”

So Ruth decided that she would send an answering telegram to Mr. Hammond, saying that she would pack that night and start early the following morning for New York.

Little did Ruth dream as she made the decision what that trip was destined to bring forth.

CHAPTER III
BREAKERS AHEAD

“It looks bad, Jim! Bad! Anyway you figure it, the result is the same. A financial smash and the sort of failure that doesn’t do your reputation any good in the motion picture business!”

Mr. Hammond was seated in the offices of the Alectrion Film Corporation in conclave with one of his close business associates, James McCarty.

The latter was a jolly red-faced Irishman with an habitual smile wreathing his wide, good-humored mouth. Just now the smile was not in evidence, in consequence of which James McCarty bore a rather close resemblance to a sorrowing kewpie.

Mr. Hammond’s own usually cheerful ruddy countenance was grave and he puffed absently at his cigar, now and then beating a nervous tattoo with his fingers on the edge of his desk. Even without the confirmation of his words it could be seen that the head of the Alectrion Film Corporation was in a state of extreme agitation.

“Anyway you figure it the thing looks bad,” he repeated unhappily.

“Wish I could disagree with you,” said McCarty, with a rueful shake of his head. “But I can’t and still keep my reputation for tellin’ the truth. You’ve had a streak of bad luck that’s uncanny, that’s what I call it.”

“And I’d call it something worse than that,” retorted Mr. Hammond grimly. “There’s the best director I ever had deserting me just at the most critical time and going over to the enemy. I tell you, I’d have thought twice about sinking so much cash in ‘The Girl of Gold’ if I hadn’t depended on Baxter to put it across strong.”

“Davidson would have been your next best bet,” said McCarty mournfully, with a hard pull at his cigar. “I’ve often said he was pretty near as good as Baxter.”

“Yes, and what does he do just at this time?” demanded Mr. Hammond bitterly. “Goes and gets typhoid fever, which puts him out of the picture—literally—for months to come——”

“And you under contract to produce ‘The Girl of Gold’ in six months,” finished McCarty.

“Aren’t you the fine old comforter!” said Mr. Hammond, a touch of humor playing about the grim lines of his mouth. “You might just as well pronounce a death sentence over my forty thousand dollars.”

“Well, it isn’t my fault,” McCarty pointed out, reasonably enough. “I’m just contributing my little share to the gloomin’ party you started yourself.” For a moment his grin flashed out, making him look less like a mournful kewpie. His face sobered almost immediately, however, as he added: “Anyway, I’m not sayin’ a thing but the truth.”

“Don’t I know it!” retorted Mr. Hammond, the lines of worry furrowed deep in his face. “If only I could have kept Gordon we might have inched through some way, though he isn’t nearly as competent as the other two. But now that he’s starting for Europe——”

“You couldn’t blame him though,” McCarty broke in. “It’s his father that’s dying and you couldn’t have much respect for the lad if he didn’t rush to the old man’s side.”

“Who’s blaming him?” retorted Mr. Hammond irritably. “Have I said a word against him? The only one who is really to blame,” he added with a grim tightening of his mouth, “is that man Baxter. And some day I’m going to have the extreme satisfaction of telling him what I think of him!”

There was a short pause while both men thought uncomfortably of the gloomy future.

Suddenly Mr. Hammond looked up, and there was a new note in his voice as he said quietly:

“Jim, there’s just one little twinkling light in all the gloom.”

McCarty gazed at him with interest.

“And would you mind tellin’ me what that is?” he requested.

Mr. Hammond leaned across the desk, his steady gaze holding McCarty’s.

“Jim, I think there is one person who can pull our fat out of the fire—if she will!”

“‘She’?” repeated McCarty, bewildered. “And now who have you in mind?”

“Miss Fielding,” the other replied quietly. “If I could get her to direct this picture—I feel sure she could do it with credit to every one concerned!”

McCarty considered and gradually his expression became less mournful. A ray of hope shone through his clouds of depression. Suddenly he leaned forward, bringing his big fist down on the table with a decisive thump.

“Say, I bet you’ve struck the right lead, old man!” he cried. “That girl can swing it if anybody can. Look at the work she has done already!”

“Tremendous!” cried Mr. Hammond, delighted at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Her last pictures are going across like wild fire. She’s on her way not only to fame, but wealth.”

“Yeah—that’s just it!” McCarty’s clouds of depression descended again, almost as black as before. “What makes you think she is going to step aside from her own business just to help us out of a jam? Don’t sound reasonable. Not human nature—movin’-picture-business human nature, anyway. No, old man, wake out of your pleasant little dream. She’d never do it. Wouldn’t be reasonable to ask her to.”

Mr. Hammond remained thoughtfully silent for a moment or two. Then he looked at McCarty and smiled.

“I’m not so sure you’re right, Jim. As you say, the motion-picture business is more or less of a cutthroat proposition—but then, so is all business, for that matter. But I believe that there are some individuals in the game who are unselfish enough to reach out a hand to a comrade in distress. I’m pretty sure—and I’ve known her for a long time—that Miss Fielding is one of these.”

Still McCarty shook his head dubiously.

“That little lady is running too strong on her own. You’ll never get her to do it, never in the wide, wide world!”

It was only a short time after this conference that another took place in the office of the Alectrion Film Corporation. Several of Mr. Hammond’s associates were present, among them the dubious Mr. James McCarty.

They were all there sitting in solemn conclave when Ruth Fielding breezed in with Tom. “Breezed” was exactly the right word for the manner of her entrance, for Ruth’s rosy face and bright eyes seemed to bring with them a breath of the spring day. There was one among the men who saw her at that moment who straightway made a mental note that Ruth Fielding was far too good looking to be the clever business woman they made her out to be. Good looks, in this gentleman’s estimation, did not usually go with brains.

All unconscious of this estimate of herself, Ruth nodded pleasantly to those in the office she knew; then put out her hand to Mr. Hammond.

The latter greeted her cordially and the next moment grasped Tom’s hand in a firm grip. The two men were great friends, yet now Mr. Hammond did not disguise from himself that it was Tom’s negative that he really feared to this proposition he was about to put to Ruth. He knew, as most people knew who had come into intimate contact with the young people, that Tom had been very patient and had waited a long time for Ruth to “name the day.” And he could not but wonder now and with a good deal of trepidation just how Tom Cameron would view a proposition that meant inevitably another postponement of his hopes. Ruth had a very genuine affection for Tom, he felt sure, despite her devotion to her career, and his attitude would unquestionably influence her decision.

Small wonder then that the justly famous Mr. Hammond should show a trace of nervous apprehension as he introduced the two young people to his colleagues.

“Now sit down, all of you,” he said with a joviality that was just a bit strained, “and I’ll outline my little proposition.”

“You said there was some trouble about your ‘Girl of Gold,’” Ruth interpolated. “I was sorry to hear that.”

“There is trouble, quite serious trouble, Miss Ruth, as you will see when I am done,” said Mr. Hammond gravely. “Luck has turned her back on us completely as producers of ‘The Girl of Gold,’ and you,” with a quick smile, “appear to be our only hope!”

Ruth leaned forward with quickened breath. Just what did he mean by that? She knew that Tom was watching her thoughtfully and felt a sudden rush of compunction. Dear old patient Tom!

But Mr. Hammond was speaking, outlining for her as he had outlined for McCarty a few days before conditions as they were at that time with the Alectrion Film Corporation.

“The whole proposition, boiled down, amounts to this, Miss Fielding,” Mr. Hammond concluded. “Because of a lack of first-class directors we are literally on the rocks, as you can see, and we are looking to you, selfishly, no doubt, to pull our fat out of the fire.”

Ruth drew a long breath and leaned back. Her cheeks were burning, but her hands, clasped together in her lap, felt cold.

“Will you do it?” asked Mr. Hammond, and the other gentlemen, including the dubious McCarty, leaned forward, staring at her.

“It—it’s a very great compliment you are all paying me,” Ruth replied slowly. “I—I—” her voice trailed off and she looked at Tom appealingly.

Tom had been deep in thought, but now his eyes met Ruth’s with an understanding smile. His nod, though almost imperceptible, seemed to raise a thousand-ton weight from the girl’s heart.

She turned to Mr. Hammond, the blood flaming to her face, her little fist doubled up upon the table.

“Mr. Hammond,” she cried, with the light of battle in her eye, “I’ll do it!”

CHAPTER IV
THE SPY

This statement of Ruth’s had an electric effect upon the little group of men in the office. Marcus Brun, Mr. Hammond’s technical director, leaned toward the girl with a gleam of genuine admiration in his eyes.

“You’ll find it anything but an easy job, Miss Fielding,” he said.

“I’m not looking for an easy job,” replied Ruth, turning to him quickly. “The harder they come, the better. And this—well, if I can help an old friend——” She paused and her eyes rested for a moment upon Mr. Hammond.

“It means a trip to Alaska, to the Yukon River,” said McCarty. “The contract calls for that. No faked-up stuff.”

“I understand—and the pictures will be taken on and around the Yukon,” answered Ruth firmly.

“It’s a long, hard trip.”

“Many things are hard in this business, Mr. McCarty.”

Mr. Hammond gazed at Ruth in intense admiration. He coughed, and cleared his throat twice before he could speak, then stretched his hand across the flat-topped desk.

“Ruth Fielding,” he said, “you’re square!”

It was a great moment for Ruth with all these important men of the motion-picture world paying her homage. As Tom looked at her and realized that this was Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill, the girl he had grown up with, his pride in her knew no bounds. He had a moment of wondering how he had ever found the courage to ask a girl like this to marry him and give up a profession in which she was making good so royally. It would be too bad to waste her talent; even Tom realized that.

But despite his good sportsmanship and his acknowledgment of Ruth’s genius, Tom knew that this new work for Mr. Hammond that she had just pledged herself to undertake would postpone their marriage indefinitely. Despite the fact that he had tacitly given his consent, Tom was sore at heart and found it a distinct effort to join in the spirited conversation that then took place between Ruth and the members of Mr. Hammond’s official staff.

“‘The Girl of Gold’ is a splendid story and we ought to make it a still better photoplay,” Ruth was saying enthusiastically. “I remember what spirited bidding there was at the time you bought the right to film it, Mr. Hammond.”

“The bidding was both spirited and high,” said the producer ruefully. “The film rights set me back about forty thousand dollars, Miss Ruth, and it was that amount we stood to lose in case you were not in a position at this time to help us out.”

“But I am,” said Ruth with her quick smile. “And I feel already like the war horse that hears the bugle call! I suppose,” with a glance toward Raymond Howell, the casting director, “you have an interesting cast.”

“Well, we think so,” responded Howell, with enthusiasm. “If you are quite willing, Miss Fielding, we were hoping to sign over Layton Boardman for the lead. His contract with you has about run out, hasn’t it?”

“I should lend him to you at all events,” responded Ruth, with a smile. “I was about to suggest that he was exactly the type to play Jimmy Drake.”

“There is another interesting feature.” Mr. Hammond leaned toward Ruth with an anticipatory smile. “You remember Edith Lang, the crippled actress?”

“Of course,” cried Ruth eagerly. “Is it possible you can use her?”

“Not only possible, but certain,” returned Mr. Hammond, smiling at Ruth’s enthusiasm. “She is a type made to order for the part of the crippled society woman in the play who eventually finds out that ‘The Girl of Gold’ is none other than her own daughter.”

Ruth clapped her hands with enthusiasm.

“Fine! Fine!” she cried. “Those two alone, Boardman and Edith Lang, are strong enough to carry the play on their own shoulders.”

“They won’t have to,” said Raymond Howell, with conviction. “When you have a chance to look over our supporting cast, Miss Fielding, I think you will agree with us that they don’t come any better.”

Ruth’s eyes were shining. Here was an adventure after her own heart. Not only had she good actors to work with, but a fine vehicle as well. The film version of “The Girl of Gold” was practically predestined for success because of the wide popularity of the story upon which it had been based. And with her own favorite leading man in the part of Jimmy Drake, the hero of the play, and Edith Lang playing the heavy emotional rôle, it seemed that the chances of failure were so remote as to be scarcely considered.

Yet through all her exultation and excitement, Ruth felt a tiny ache of conscience when she thought of Tom. He was being such a sport about it—as indeed he had been all along. He could have made it so hard for her to accept Mr. Hammond’s proposal if he had wanted to. If he had been irritable or cranky about her work she would not have minded putting him off so much. As it was——

She stole an anxious little side glance at him and was relieved to see that he looked quite cheerful. He was speaking to Mr. Hammond and his voice was cheerful too. Ruth could not have guessed what an effort it was for Tom to make it so.

“Something has been said about almost everybody but the young lady that plays the title rôle,” he was remarking with a humorous look. “Doesn’t she count?”

“Not so much,” answered Mr. Hammond, smiling. “Her part is not nearly so exacting as that of Boardman or Edith Lang, and we have two or three stars quite capable of meeting the requirements. We are leaving the selection to the discretion of our new director here,” turning with a quizzical smile to Ruth. “I think you will all agree with me that she has an unusual knack in the selection of leading ladies!”

Ruth knew he referred to her own part in the making of her last picture when, upon the defection of her leading lady, Viola Callahan, Ruth had stepped into the lead herself.

She flushed now and looked a bit self-conscious.

“The particular leading lady you have in mind was of your selection,” she reminded him, and there was a general laugh.

In fact, everything was so pleasant and jolly that it was some time before they came down to interesting and important details such as the day on which the new director was to take charge, when they were to start on location and so forth.

“You can’t start work too soon to suit us, Miss Ruth,” said Mr. Hammond. “I presume you are both free to begin at once?” with a glance toward Tom.

“The sooner the better,” the latter replied cheerfully, and Ruth could have hugged him. That was so exactly the response she would have made.

“Well, then we might as well get down to business.”

“I think we’ve been doing business already,” remarked Ruth.

“You know what I mean, Miss Ruth. About terms——”

“I’ll leave them entirely to you and Mr. Cameron,” answered the girl promptly. “You know Mr. Cameron is the financial head of our concern,” and Ruth gave Tom a smile that made his heart jump.

“Well, then, we’ll fix that end up in the morning,” said Mr. Hammond to Tom. “Now as to the trip.”

Spreading a map between them on the flat-topped desk, Mr. Hammond explained the route they would take, outlining the course of their travels with a heavy blue pencil.

“Your first real stop will be at Seattle,” he pointed out. “The picture must be filmed at various points along the Yukon River. I have some pictures here of various locations that may appeal to you and you can settle on some likely spots without taking the time and trouble of scouting around on your own account.”

As Ruth accepted the pictures from Mr. Hammond and looked them over with Tom, she registered a mental vow that in a short time and with sufficient capital behind her, the Fielding Film Company would be run with as much efficiency as the Alectrion Film Corporation or any of the other larger producing concerns.

Take these photographs now! What an improvement that was on the haphazard system of setting out personally to hunt up locations. What a saving of time merely to have these pictures filed away where they might be brought out at a moment’s notice for reference! Why, one could choose locations enough for the filming of the entire picture without actually moving from the room! However, Ruth thought it would be possible to stop at just one of these points along the Yukon—a small settlement, preferably—and with one such place as a base it ought to be an easy matter to discover locations in the immediate vicinity of the settlement that would satisfy the requirements of the script.

“May we take these with us?” she asked, looking up from the photographs. “Tom and I will want to look them over carefully——”

“Of course!” said Mr. Hammond heartily. “We and everything that’s ours belong to you for the present, Miss Ruth.”

“Where do we meet the rest of the company?” Tom asked.

“They have been taking some of the interior scenes at Hollywood and will meet you at Seattle. From there you can take a steamer that will carry you to your various locations up the Yukon. Miss Ruth—what is it——”

For Ruth had made a sudden dash for the door and was tugging at it frantically.

“Some one,” she gasped, “is out there spying on us!”

CHAPTER V
AN OLD ENEMY

While Ruth Fielding had been in conversation with those in the office she had noticed a curious thing.

A small triangular corner of glass had been broken from the upper panel of the door. For a considerable time Ruth had felt that conviction that comes to every one at times of being closely and furtively watched. Her eyes, almost against her will, had traveled repeatedly to that triangular bit of broken glass. Then suddenly she saw it! That at least could not be imagination! An ear was pressed close to that tiny aperture and while she stared, momentarily paralyzed with astonishment, an eye took its place!

With Ruth, to think was to act. No sooner was she convinced that there was a spy in the hallway outside the door than she was on her feet, tugging madly at the knob.

As the startled and astonished men in the office behind her rose to their feet wondering if she had taken leave of her senses the door yielded to Ruth’s frantic tug and swung inward.

That the spy was completely taken by surprise was evident. The man who had been stooping to the aperture jerked to an upright position as Ruth flashed upon him. For a moment he looked straight at the girl and in that moment Ruth recognized him.

“Charlie Reid!” she gasped. “What are you doing here spying?”

“None of your business!” grumbled the fellow sullenly. “Sol and I know what we’re doing——”

But just then Charlie Reid caught sight of Ruth’s companions as they hurried to the office doorway. Turning, he dashed down the almost empty corridor and, reaching the stairway, took the steps three at a time and vanished from sight.

“Seemed to be in a pretty big hurry,” observed Tom. “Didn’t wait for explanations or anything, did he?”

The men ran to the head of the stairs, but the fellow had disappeared. To follow him on foot would be useless, and if they waited for an elevator they would have no better chance of intercepting him.

Bewildered and rather alarmed, they returned to the office to talk over this startling development.

“Not a soul of us saw his face,” mourned McCarty, but Ruth was quick to contradict him.

“I did,” she said. “And what’s more, I know him—and so do you all!”

They made her sit down and explain.

“It was Charlie Reid,” she said excitedly. “And as you all know, he is Sol Bloomberg’s right-hand man. It was Charlie who, as agent for Bloomberg, first tempted Viola Callahan to break her contract with me.”

“The rascal!” cried Brun, his big hand doubled into a fist. “And to think he got away with a whole neck and his information!”

“But why should Charlie Reid want to spy on us?” asked Mr. Hammond. “Certainly our conversation has been innocent enough and has nothing whatever to do with Reid, or with Bloomberg either, for that matter.”

“It’s queer, though,” mused Ruth, as though speaking aloud. “Charlie Reid spying here, trying to find out what he can of my future plans, right on top of that threatening letter from Sol Bloomberg!”

Naturally the men were more at sea than ever over this reference, since none but Ruth herself and Helen Cameron knew anything of the threatening, venomous letter Bloomberg had sent. Ruth had not even told Tom for fear of needlessly worrying him.

Now, however, it was necessary to make a clean breast of the facts. In view of what had just happened, the letter from the disgraced producer took on an added importance.

“It looks to me,” Ruth finished, “as though the planting of Charlie Reid here to spy upon us and overhear our plans is the first step in Bloomberg’s scheme of revenge.”

“It isn’t revenge, Miss Ruth; it’s plain spite,” said Mr. Hammond disgustedly. “That fellow had nothing against you except that you succeeded where he tried to make you fail.”

“And something tells me,” Ruth said, with a little shrug of her shoulders, “that he still has my failure at heart and will leave no stone unturned to accomplish it.”

“Well,” said Tom, with a squaring of his shoulders and a yearning glance toward the spot in the doorway where Charlie Reid had been, “if either Bloomberg or that Reid chap gets ugly again and tries to start something, we’ll show them both they’ve been in a scrap!”

On the whole, however, Mr. Hammond and his associates seemed inclined to treat Bloomberg and any nefarious schemes he might concoct as beneath their notice and certainly as nothing to worry about.

“He may have guns, Miss Ruth, but he has no powder and shot,” Mr. Hammond assured her. “In other words, he is a rattlesnake with his venom removed. Don’t waste your time worrying about him. And meanwhile,” he put out his hand as Ruth rose to her feet, “please believe that we are all undyingly grateful to you for helping us out in this emergency. I feel as though a thousand tons had been lifted from my shoulders.”

Ruth smiled, with a return of the fighting gleam in her eye.

“I’m glad to be free to undertake it,” she said. “And—I’ll do my best!”

“That’s all we ask!” Mr. Hammond assured her, and this sentiment was echoed with many hearty handshakes by McCarty, Brun and the others.

After Ruth and Tom had left, there was just one among the men in Mr. Hammond’s office who was not enthusiastic over the success of the afternoon’s conference. This was Raymond Howell, the casting director.

“I’m not as confident of success as you all seem,” he told them, and the statement was like a dash of cold water upon their enthusiasm. “I admit that Miss Fielding is a good director—upon her own field. But I don’t know that our actors will take kindly to a woman director. They are not used to them, and this one is so young and good-looking that it seems impossible that she is as brainy and competent as they say.”

“As we know,” Mr. Hammond said quietly. “You have come into our personnel since Miss Fielding left it, Howell, and that is probably why you lack confidence in her ability. You said just now that this girl was a good director in her own field. You forget that this was her original field, the stepping stone to her present success. No, my dear fellow, you may safely lull your fears to rest. In my own mind I have not the slightest doubt that this afternoon’s conference has saved to the Alectrion Film Corporation a full forty thousand dollars!”

If Ruth had heard this tribute she would have thrilled with pride at such a proof of Mr. Hammond’s confidence in her. It would have done her good too, for, strangely enough, her confidence in herself had been rather severely shaken by the detection of spying Charlie Reid that afternoon.

“I don’t like it, Tom. I don’t like it at all,” she said, as they sped uptown toward the hotel at which they were stopping while in New York. “Bloomberg wouldn’t have planted Charlie Reid there to overhear our conference with Mr. Hammond if he hadn’t had a good and sufficient reason.”

“Perhaps,” said Tom, looking at her flushed face and thinking how pretty she was, “Bloomberg didn’t plant Charlie at all. How do you know Reid wasn’t there on his own business?”

But Ruth shook her head positively.

“He has no reason to wish me harm,” she pointed out. “Except as Bloomberg’s agent. Besides, I don’t believe Charlie Reid has brains enough to act on his own account. Bloomberg was always the brains, Charlie the tool. I wish,” she ended, a bit plaintively, “I knew what the real answer was!”

“Now don’t worry,” Tom protested. “If Bloomberg has any crooked little game up his sleeve, we’ll find it out soon enough. And when he starts something we’ll very soon show him who is going to finish it. You beat him once, Ruth, and that only goes to show you can beat him again, and worse.”

A dimple appeared at the corner of Ruth’s mouth.

“The law of averages——”

“Oh, bother the law of averages,” Tom interrupted, good-naturedly. “It isn’t going to work in this case. Besides, here we are at our station!”

He led her forth upon the subway platform and in a few moments they were being eagerly greeted by Helen in their suite at the Graymore.

They were to stay over in New York until the following afternoon at least, since another business conference with Mr. Hammond was imperative, for Tom, at any rate. Helen was overjoyed at this news and declared that she would spend the following morning shopping for the trip to the Yukon.

“Do you really think you ought to go?” Ruth asked, teasing her. “Poor Chess! It really is cruel to leave him all alone!”

“Oh, but think what a long time we’ll be married!” Helen protested. “Even Chess couldn’t deny me this wonderful chance for a little fun before, before——”

“The end?” suggested Tom, with a grin.

“You put it crudely, Tommy-boy,” chuckled Helen, making a face at him. “But I simply couldn’t miss this trip. Especially since our old friends Bloomberg and Charlie Reid are stepping into the limelight again, prepared to give us a few thrills.”

“I shouldn’t wonder,” said Ruth dryly, as she examined the location photographs Mr. Hammond had given her that afternoon, “if we will have more thrills than we exactly enjoy before we get through.”

CHAPTER VI
PREMONITIONS

Helen stared at her chum for a moment and her laughing mouth turned downward, lending an expression of momentary gravity to her merry face.

“You don’t mean to say, Ruthie Fielding, that you are actually afraid of Sol Bloomberg?”

Ruth laid down the pictures and for the moment her face reflected the gravity of Helen’s.

“I am afraid of Sol Bloomberg,” she told them simply. “Not that I think that he can get the better of me in a long fight. I believe that when it comes to a matter of endurance I have a far better chance than Bloomberg to win.”

“You bet you have, especially when you consider your wonderful support!” broke in Tom, with a grin.

“I am considering him,” said Ruth, with a grateful glance but no relaxing of her gravity. “That’s one of the things that makes me pretty sure of winning in a long race.

“But, oh, you don’t realize!” She leaned forward and cupped her little fighting chin in one hand while she regarded her companions with an intense earnestness. “It’s impossible for any one to understand who isn’t situated as I am how many small annoyances, little enough in themselves, but terrible when you group them all together, a man like Bloomberg can perpetrate. He knows the picture business through and through, he knows just how to hit in a vital spot and just the time to do it. He knows, and Charlie Reid knows too, that small delays mean actual loss in dollars and cents. He knows that when a company of actors is worked up to acting pitch that just some small delay or the introduction of a ludicrous incident will sometimes completely ruin their morale. He knows—but there!” She checked herself and looked a little embarrassed at her impassioned flow of words. “I’m going on dreadfully and you both must think me a regular kill-joy, but you asked me a question, Helen, and I’ve answered it the best I know how. I am afraid of Sol Bloomberg!”

And this fear was in no way lessened during the busy, interest-filled days that followed.

Ruth might gradually have managed to forget Bloomberg had that man not taken great pains to keep himself alive in her memory. The threatening letter she had received from him just before the Charlie Reid incident proved to be only the first of many.

In the beginning Ruth determined to ignore these sneering missives. But when they continued to pour in upon her she laid the matter in desperation before Tom, and that young gentleman took a prompt and decisive hand in the game.

He wrote just one letter to Sol Bloomberg, and though Ruth never knew exactly what the contents of that letter were, it seemed to have the desired effect upon her enemy.

Bloomberg’s threatening missives ceased to come. But they had left their poison in the air behind them and, day or night, Ruth could never banish completely from her mind the vision of a malignant Bloomberg, promising dire things should she go on with her plans and undertake the filming of “The Girl of Gold.”

Lucky for Ruth and for Mr. Hammond’s hopes that hers was a fighting spirit and that opposition such as Bloomberg’s only made her more determined to succeed in spite of him.

It had been necessary for them to stay only one night in New York, since Mr. Hammond, in eager anticipation of Ruth’s acceptance of his proposition, anxious as he was to start the serious work of production without further delay, accepted Tom’s terms without question and immediately. He had already planned out all the details of the trip, to which it remained only for Ruth to acquiesce.

On reaching Cheslow, reservations were made at once by Tom on the train that would start the following morning for New York. The girls, while in New York, had done all the necessary shopping—though Helen had taken the heavy end of this undertaking, since Ruth was far too absorbed in her plans and in the scenario of “The Girl of Gold” to care much what she wore on the trip.

So on this particular evening Ruth was at work in her little study at the Red Mill, methodically gathering up all the loose ends of her affairs.

She was leaning over her desk, scanning again the pictures she had selected of the points they were to visit along the Yukon River when there was a slight rustling, and she looked around to see Aunt Alvirah coming into the room.

“I had to come in and sit with you, my pretty, just for a little while,” said the old woman, half apologetically. “I won’t see you for so long and I never know when you go away on one of these trips whether you’ll come back to your old Aunt Alvirah again, or whether she’ll be here to see you, when you do.”

“Why, Auntie, what a dreadful thing to say!” Ruth was on her feet in an instant and tenderly led the old woman to a chair. “You mustn’t talk like that, you know,” taking the wrinkled old hand in both her young ones and rubbing it gently, “or I won’t have the heart to go at all!”

“Oh, yes, you will, my pretty. And I wouldn’t hold you back if I could—I’m that proud of you! But it’s lonesome here at times, and your uncle, my dear——”

“Oh, I know,” Ruth broke in quickly. “I know just how trying he can be. But you mustn’t let him worry you, dear. It’s only his age that makes him so disagreeable, and he really doesn’t mean half he says——”

“There’s the doorbell!” cried the old lady, as a shrill clamor woke the echoes of the old house. “Oh, my back! and oh, bones! Let me go, my pretty. I must answer it.”