and his two chums had a gay time by themselves. They tried to get
Fred Hatfield into their company, but the runaway boy would not
respond to their overtures.

At the dinner table, when the fun became fast and furious, Fred
Hatfield did not even smile. Heavy whispered to Ruth that she never
did see a boy before who was so dreadfully solemn. "And he grows
solemner and solemner every mile we travel!" added Heavy. "What do
you suppose is on his mind?"

Ruth was quite sure she knew what was on the lad's mind; but she did
not say. Indeed, all the day long she was troubled by the special
knowledge she had gained from the newspaper clipping that she carried
hidden in the bottom of her pocket. Should she tell Mr. Cameron about
it? Should she speak plainly to Fred himself about it? The nearer
they approached Scarboro the more uncertain she became, and the more
sullen Fred Hatfield looked.

Ruth watched him a good deal, but so covertly that her girl friends
did not notice her abstraction. The short Winter day was beginning to
draw in and the red sun was hanging low above the tree-tops when Mr.
Cameron announced that the second stop of the train would be their
destination. The party--at least, Mr. Cameron, the governess, and the
young folk--were to remain at the hotel in Scarboro over-night. The
serving people and the baggage were to go on that evening to Snow Camp.

Fred Hatfield sauntered to the rear of the car and stood looking out
of the window in the door. The flagman was on the rear platform,
however, and he could not get down without being observed. The stop
at this town was brief; then the train sped on through the deep woods.