nk you have to help everybody you come 'cross in
the world, gal," advised Uncle Jabez, finally picking up the cash-box to
retire to his room. "Every tub ought to stand on its own bottom, as I've
allus told ye."

When he was gone Aunt Alvirah shook her head sadly.

"Ain't much brotherhood of man in Jabez Potter's idees of life," she
said. "He says nobody ever helped him get up in the world, so why should
he help others?"

"Of all things!" exclaimed Ruth, with some warmth. "I wonder what he
would have done all these years without you to make a home for him
here!"

"Tut, tut!" objected the old woman. "'Tain't me that's done for him. I
was a poor lone creeter in the poorhouse when Jabez Potter came and took
me out. I know that deep down in his old heart there's a flame of
charity. Who should know it better?"

"Oh, dear!" cried Ruth. "He keeps it wonderfully well hidden--that
flame. He certainly does."

Jennie laughed. "Well, why shouldn't he be cautious? See how many times
you have been charitable, Ruth, and seen no gratitude in return."

"Well!" gasped the girl of the Red Mill, in disgust, "is _that_ what we
are to be charitable for? For shame!"

"Right you are, my pretty," said Aunt Alvirah. "Doin' one's duty for
duty's sake is the way the good Lord intended. And if Jabez Potter is
charitable without knowin' it--and he _is_--all the better. It's charged
up to his credit in heaven, I have no doubt."

The girls were tired after their long ride in the keen evening air and
they were ready for bed at a comparatively early hour. But after Ruth
had got into bed she could not sleep.

Thoughts rioted in her brain. For a week she had felt the inspiration of
creative work milling in her mind--that is what she called it. She had
promised the president of the Alectrion Film Corporation to think up
some unusual story--preferably an outdoor plot--for their next picture.
And thus far nothing had formed in her mind that suggested the thing
desired.

Outdoor stories had the call on the screen. They had but lately made one
on the coast of Maine, the details of which are given in "Ruth Fielding
Down East." Earlier in her career as a screen writer the girl of the Red
Mill had made a success of a subject which was photographed in the
mining country of the West. "Ruth Fielding in the Saddle" tells the
story of this venture.

There spun through her half-drowsing brain scenes of the Wild West Show
they had attended this day. That