CHAPTER XV
HELEN'S ESCAPE
Helen Cameron was so fearful at first of the Gypsies overtaking her,that she had no thought of any peril which might lie ahead of thedrifting punt, into which she had scrambled. She realized that Ruth hadsacrificed herself in their attempt to escape, but she could render herchum no help now. Indeed, the current which had seized the boat was sostrong that she could not have gotten back to the shore, had she tried.
When the Gypsies disappeared into the wood, taking Ruth with them, Helenrealized her helplessness and loneliness, and she wept. She sat in thestern of the punt and floated on and on, without regard to where she wasgoing.
She could not have changed the course of the punt, however. She was nowin too deep water; the guiding pole was of no use to her, and there wereno oars, of course. She was drifting toward the middle of the lake, itseemed, yet the general direction was eastward.
There, at the lower end of the lake, a wide stream carried its waterstoward the distant Minturn Dam. But long before the stream came to thatplace, there was much of what the local guides called "white water."
These swift rapids Helen thought little about at first. She had had noexperience to warn her of her peril. At this moment she was fearful onlyof the wild Gypsy clan that had tried to keep her prisoner and that had,indeed, succeeded in carrying away her dear friend, Ruth Fielding.
As she floated on, she saw nothing more of the Gypsies. She began tobelieve that they had not turned back to follow her along the edge ofthe lake. They were satisfied with their single prisoner!
"But father will see to that!" sobbed Helen. "He won't let them run awaywith Ruth Fielding--I know he won't! Dear, dear! what would I ever do ifRuth disappeared and we shouldn't meet each other again--or not until wewere quite grown up?
"Such things _have_ happened! I've read about it in books. And thosedreadful Gypsies make the children they capture become Gypsies, too.Suppose, years and years hence, I should meet Ruth and she should ask totell my fortune as Gypsy women do--and she shouldn't know me----"
Helen began to sob again. She was working herself up into a highlynervous state and her imagination was "running away with her," as Ruthoften said.
Just then she almost lost the punt-pole, and this near-accident startledher. She might need that pole yet--especially if the boat drifted intoshallow water.
She looked all around. She stood up, so as to see farther. Not a movingobject appeared along either shore of the lake. This was a veritablewilderness, and human habitations were far, far away.
She raised her eyes to the chain of hills over which she and her brotherand Ruth had ridden the day before. At one point she could see the roaditself, and just then there flashed into view an auto, travelingeastward at a fast clip.
"But, of course, they can't see _me_ 'way down here," said Helen,shaking her head. "They wouldn't notice such a speck on the lake."
So she did not even try to signal to the motor-car, and it was quicklyout of sight.
The current was now stronger, it seemed. The punt drifted straight downthe lake toward the broad stream through which Long Lake was drained.Helen hoped the boat would drift in near one shore, or the other, but itentered the stream as near the middle as though it had been aimed forthat point!
Here the water gripped the heavy boat and drew it onward, swifter andswifter. At first Helen was not afraid. She saw the banks slipping by oneither hand, and was now so far from the Gypsies, that she would havebeen glad to get ashore. Yet she did not think herself in any increaseddanger.
Suddenly, however, an eddy gripped the boat. To her amazement the craftswung around swiftly and she was floating down stream, stern foremost!
"Oh, dear me! I wish I had a pair of oars. Then I could manage thisthing," she told herself.
Then the boat scraped upon a rock. The blow was a glancing one, but itdrove the craft around again. She was glad, however, to see the bowaimed properly.
From moment to moment the boat now moved more swiftly. It seemed thatthe foam-streaked water tore at its sides as though desiring to swampit. Helen sat very quietly in the middle seat, and watched the dimpling,eddying stream with increasing anxiety.
Suddenly the punt darted shoreward. It looked just as though it must becast upon the beach. Helen raised herself stiffly, seized the pole morefirmly, and prepared to leap ashore with its aid.
And just as she was about to risk the feat, the bow of the boat whirledoutward again, she was almost cast into the water, and once more theboat whirled down the middle current.
She dropped back into her seat with a gasp. This was terrible! She couldnot possibly control the craft in the rapids, and she was travelingfaster and faster.
The boat came to another eddy, and was whirled around and around, soswiftly, that Helen's poor head swam, too! She raised her voice in a cryfor help, but it was likewise a cry of despair. She had no idea thatthere was a soul within the sound of her voice.
Crash! the boat went against an outcropping rock. It spun around againand darted down the current. It was leaking now; the water poured intoit between the sprung planks.
The river widened suddenly into a great pool, fringed with trees. At onepoint a rock was out-thrust into the river and Helen saw--dimly enoughat first--a figure spring into view upon this boulder.
"Help! help!" shrieked the girl, as the boat spun about.
"Hi! catch that!"
It was dear old Tom's voice! The shout brought hope to Helen's heart.
"Oh, Tom! Tom!" she cried. "Save me!"
"Bet you I will!" returned the boy. "Just grab this rope----Now!"
She saw the loop come hurtling through the air. Tom had learned how toproperly throw a lariat the summer before, while in Montana, and he andhis particular chums had practised the art assiduously ever since thattime.
Now, at his second trial, he dropped the noose right across the punt.Helen seized upon it.
"Hitch it to the ring in the bow--quick!" commanded her brother, andHelen obeyed.
In five minutes he had her ashore, but the punt sunk in shallow water.
"I don't care! I don't care!" cried Helen, wading through the shallowwater. "I really thought I was going to drown, Tommy boy."
"But where's Ruth? Whatever have you girls been doing since lastevening? Where did you go to?"
He held her in his arms for a moment and hugged her tightly. Helensobbed a little, with her face against his shoulder.
"Oh! it's so-o good to have you again, Tommy," she declared.
Then she told him swiftly all that had happened. Tom was mighty glad toget his sister back, but he was vastly worried about her chum.
"That's what I feared. I had a feeling that you girls had fallen intothe hands of those Gypsies. Those men in the old house were two ofthem----"
"I know it. We saw them at the encampment."
"But if Ruth is still with them," Tom said, "Peck will get her. He saidhe knew how to handle Gyps. He's been used to them all his life. Andthis tribe often come through this region, he told me."
"Who is Mr. Peck?" asked Helen, puzzled.
Tom told her of his adventures on the previous night. After returning tothe spot where the auto had been stalled earlier in the evening, Tom andthe constable had searched with the lanterns all about the place, andhad followed the footsteps of the girls and the strange woman to thelower road.
"I had no idea then that the wagon you had evidently gotten into was aGypsy cart," pursued Tom. "We saw you'd gone on toward Severn Corners,however, and we went back. But you come along with me, now, Helen, andwe'll return to that very place. I expect Uncle Ike will be waiting forus. I telephoned him before daylight this morning--and it's now teno'clock. The car is right back here on the road."
"Oh! I am so glad!"
"Yes. Soon after breakfast Peck and I separated! I came this way in thecar, hoping to find some trace of you. Peck made inquiries and said he'dfollow the Gyps. Ruth will be taken away from them," declared Tom, withconviction. "Th
at big smith isn't afraid of anybody."
"Oh, I hope so," said Helen. "But that horrible old Gypsy--the queen,she calls herself--is very powerful."
"Not much she isn't!" laughed Tom. "Peck fully feels the importance ofthat star he wears. I think he would tackle a herd of elephants, if theywere breaking the law."
So they sped on in the motor-car, feeling considerably better. The twinswere very fond of each other, and were never really happy, when theywere apart for long.
But when they ran down into Severn Corners, expecting to find Ruth atthe constable's house, they were gravely disappointed. The forge wasopen and Sim Peck was shoeing a horse. He stood up, hammer in hand, whenthe motor-car stopped before the smithy.
"Hello!" he said to Tom. "Did you get her?"
"I got my sister. She's had an awful time. Those Gypsies ought to be allshut up in jail," said Tom, vigorously.
"Them 'Gyptians?" drawled Peck, in surprise. "What they got ter do withit?"
"Why, they had everything to do with it. Don't you know that theycarried off both my sister here and Ruth Fielding?"
"Look here," said the blacksmith-constable, slowly, "let me understandthis. Your sister has been with the 'Gyptians?"
"Yes. Didn't you find Ruth with them?"
"Wait a minute. Was she with old Zelaya's tribe?"
"Yes," cried Helen. "That is the name of the Gypsy queen."
"And the other gal?" demanded the man. "Where is she?"
"That's what I ask you," said Tom, anxiously. "My sister escaped fromthem, but they recaptured the other girl."
"Sure o' that?" he demanded.
"Yes, I am!" cried Helen. "I saw them drag her back through the woods tothe encampment."
"When was this?"
"Not far from six o'clock this morning."
"By gravey!" ejaculated the man. "She ain't with 'em now. I been allthrough them vans, and seen the whole tribe. There ain't a white galwith 'em," said Mr. Peck, with confidence.