l came down on the run. But the _Jennie S._ had
headway sufficient to bring her straight into the opening between the
ledges.

Tom ran forward, seized the rope in the bow, and leaped ashore, carrying
the coil of the painter with him. Helen and Ruth succeeded in stopping
the boat's headway with the oars, and the craft lay gently rocking in
the natural dock, without having scraped her paint an atom.

"A fine landing!" exclaimed Tom, taking a turn or two with the rope
about a knob of rock.

"Yes, indeed," returned Ruth. She gave a look around. "My, what a
lonely spot!"

"It is lonely," the youth answered. "Kind of a Robinson Crusoe
place," and he gave a short laugh.

"Listen!" cried Ruth, and held up her hand as a warning.

"What did you hear, Ruth?"

"I thought I heard somebody talking, or calling."

"You did?" Tom listened intently. "I don't hear anything." He
listened again. "Yes, I do! Where did it come from?"

"I think it came from yonder," and the girl from the Red Mill pointed
to a big, round rock ahead of them.

"Maybe it did, Ruth. We'll--yes, you are right!" exclaimed the boy.

As he spoke there was a scraping sound ahead of them and suddenly a
tousled black head popped, up over the top of the boulder from which
fluttered the bit of white linen that had first attracted Ruth's
attention.

"Gracious goodness!" gasped Helen.

"It's Nita!" cried Ruth.

"Oh, oh!" shrilled the lost girl, flying out of concealment and meeting
Ruth as she leaped ashore. "Is it really you? Have you come for me? I--I
thought I'd have to stay here alone forever. I'd given up all hope
of any boat seeing me, or my signal. I--I'm 'most dead of fear, Ruth
Fielding! Do, do take me back to land with you."

The Western girl was clearly panic-stricken. The boldness and
independence she had formerly exhibited were entirely gone. Being
marooned on this barren islet had pretty well sapped the courage of
Miss Jane Ann Hicks.

CHAPTER XXIV

PLUCKY MOTHER PURLING

Tom Cameron audibly chuckled; but he made believe to be busy with the
painter of the catboat and so did not look at the Western girl. The
harum-scarum, independent, "rough and ready" runaway was actually on
the verge of tears. But--really--it was not surprising.

"How long have you been out here on this rock?" demanded Helen, in
horror.

"Ever since I left the bungalow."

"Why didn't you wave your signal from the top of the rock, so that it
could be seen on