"I can't! I can't!" repeated the terrified boy.

"Oh, you wicked, wicked boy! you'll kill us both!" cried Ruth.

"It's your own fault you're here," returned Fred, sharply. "And I
wouldn't never have got onto the wagon if you hadn't chased me."

"I believe you are the very worst boy who ever lived!" declared the
girl from the Red Mill, in both anger and despair. "And I wish I had
let you go your own wicked way."

"I wish you had," growled Hatfield, and then tried to soothe the
running mules again.

He was successful in the end. He had driven mules before and
understood them. The beasts, after traveling at least two miles,
began to slow down. The wagon was now passing through a wild piece of
the forest, and it was growing dark very fast. Only the snow on the
ground made it possible for the boy and girl to see objects at a
distance.

Ruth was wondering what her friends would think when they missed
her, and likewise how she would ever get back to the railroad. Would
Mr. Cameron send back for her? What would happen to her, here in the
deep woods, even when the mules stopped so that she dared leap down
from the cart?

And just then--before these questions became very pertinent in her
mind--she was startled by a wild scream from the bush patch beside