"A girl. Not Sim's gal. Sim ain't got nothing but louts of boys. Let
me see. What boy is this?"

"He is Fred Hatfield," said Ruth, simply. Fred jumped and tried to
pull away from her; but Ruth's hold was not to be so easily broken.
The hermit, however, seemed to have never heard the name before. He
only said, idly:

"Fred Hatfield, eh? You his sister?"

"No, sir. I am Ruth Fielding," she replied.

"Ruth Fielding? Don't know her. She's not belongin' around here. No.
Well, how'd you get here? And with Sim's mules?"

Ruth told him briefly, but without bringing Fred Hatfield's trouble
into the story. They had got aboard the timber cart at the crossing,
the mules had run away, the panther had taken a ride with them and--
here they were!

The hermit merely nodded in acknowledgment of the tale. His
questions dealt with her alone:

"Where do you belong?"

"The party I was with are bound for Snow Camp. Do you know where
that is, sir?" Ruth asked.

"Not ten miles away. Yes."