ous looking than this
stranger.

Her experiences at the battlefront in France had taught her many things.
Among them, that very often the roughest men are the most tender with and
considerate of women. Ruth knew that the girls and women working in the
Red Cross and the "Y" and the Salvation Army might venture among the
roughest _poilus_, Tommies and our own Yanks without fearing insult or
injury.

After that first startled "Oh!" Ruth Fielding gave no sign of fearing the
bearded man with the gun under his arm. She stood her ground as he
approached her.

"How many air there of ye, Sissy?" he wanted to know. "And air ye all
loose from some bat factory? That other one's crazy as all git out."

"Oh, did you see her?"

"If ye mean that Whosis that's wanderin' around yellin' like a
cat-o'-mountain----"

"Oh, dear! It was she that was screaming so!"

"I should say it was. I tried to cotch her----"

"And that scared her more, I suppose."

"Huh! Be I so scareful to look at?" the stranger demanded. "Or, mebbe
_you_ ain't loony, lady?"

"I should hope not," rejoined Ruth, beginning to laugh.

"Then how in tarnation," demanded the bearded man, "do you explain your
wanderin' about these woods in this storm?"

"Why," said Ruth, "I was trying to catch that poor creature, too."

"That Whosis?" he exclaimed.

"Whatever and whoever she is. See! Here's one of her shoes."

"Do tell! She's lost it, ain't she? Don't you reckon she's loony?"

"It may be that she is out of her mind. But she couldn't hurt you--a big,
strong man like you."

"That's as may be. I misdoubted me she was some kind of a Whosis," said
the woodsman. "I seen her a couple of times and heard her holler ev'ry
time the lightning was real sharp."

"The poor creature has been frightened half to death by the tempest," said
Ruth.

"Mebbe. But where did she come from? And where did you come from, if I may
ask? This yere ain't a neighborhood that many city folks finds their way
into, let me tell ye."

Ruth told him her name and related the mishap that had happened to the two
cars at the bottom of the hill.

"Wal, I want to know!" he responded. "Out o' gasoline, heh? Wal, that can
be mended."

"Tom Cameron has gone on foot for some."

"Which way did he go, Ma'am?"

"East," she said, pointing.

"Towards Ridgeton? Wal, he'll have a fine walk."

"But we have not seen any gasoline sign for ever so far back on the road."

"That's right. Ain't no reg'l