Jerry Sheming in
every way possible, she was now.

If there was a box of money and papers hidden on Cliff Island, once
belonging to Pete Tilton, the old hunter, Ruth desired to keep Blent from
finding it.

She believed Jerry's story--about the treasure box and all. Rufus Blent's
actions now seemed to prove the existence of such a box. He wanted to find
it. But if the money and papers in the box had belonged to old Pete
Tilton, surely Jerry, as his single living relative, should have the best
right to the "treasure trove."

How to thwart Blent was the question disturbing Ruth Fielding's mind. Of
course, nobody but Jerry had as strong a desire as she to outwit the old
real estate man. The other girls and boys--even Mrs. Tingley--would not
feel as Ruth did about it. She knew that well enough.

If anything was to be done to save Jerry from being arrested on a false
charge and dragged from Cliff Island by Blent, _she_ must bring it about.
Ruth watched the last flakes of the snow falling with a very serious
feeling.

The other young folk were delighted with the breaking of the weather. Now
they could observe Logwood better, and its surroundings. The roughly built
"shanty-town" was dropped down on the edge of the lake, in a clearing.
Much of the stumpage around the place was still raw. The only roads were
timber roads and they were now knee-deep in fresh snow.

There was a dock with a good-sized steamer tied up at it, but there was
too much ice for it to be got out into the lake. The railroad came out of
the woods on one side and disappeared into just as thick a forest on the
other.

The interest of the young people, however, lay in the bit of land that
loomed up some five miles away. Cliff Island contained several hundred
acres of forest and meadow--all now covered with glittering white.

At the nearer end was the new hunting lodge of the Tingleys, with the
neighboring outbuildings. At the far end the island rose to a rugged
promontory perhaps a hundred and fifty feet high, with a single tall pine
tree at the apex.

That western end of the island seemed to be built of huge boulders for the
most part. Here and there the rocks were so steep that the snow did not
cling to them, and they looked black and raw against the background of
dazzling white.

The face of the real cliff--because of which the island had received its
name--was scarcely visible from Logwood. Jerry had told Ruth it was a very
wild and desolate pl