The shock of dropping fifty feet through the air, and landing without experiencing anything more dangerous than a greatly accelerated heart-action was enough, of itself, to make the girl of the Red Mill dumb for the moment.

She heard faintly the frightened cries of her companions, and she struggled to get to the surface of the great, soft heap of snow that had saved her from instant death.

Then she heard a voice pronounce her name, and a hand was thrust into the snow bank and seized her shoulder.

“Ruth Fielding!  Miss Ruth!  That come nigh to being your last jump, that did!”

“Jerry Sheming!” gasped the girl, as he drew her out of the snow.

“In here—­quick!  Are they after me?”

Ruth shook the snow from her eyes.  She was like a half-drowned person suddenly coming to the surface.

“Where—­where are we?” she whispered.

“All right!  This is one of my hide-outs.  Is that old Blent up yonder?”

“Oh, Jerry! he’s not on the island to-day.  He’s left the constable——­”

“Lem Daggett?”

“Yes.  They are searching for you.  But I was with Tom and Helen and the others.  We brought you some food——­”

He led her along a narrow shelf, which had been swept quite free of snow.  Now a hollow in the rock-wall opened before them, and there a little fire of sticks burned, an old buffalo robe lay nearby, and there were other evidences of the fugitive’s camp.

Ruth was shaking now, but not from the cold.  The shock of her fall had begun to awaken the nervous terror which is the afterclap of such an adventure.  So near she had been to death!

“You are sick, Miss Ruth?” exclaimed Jerry.

“Oh, no!  Oh, no!” repeated the girl of the Red Mill.  “But so—­so frightened.”

“Nothin’ to be frightened over now,” he returned, smiling broadly.  “But you did miss it close.  If that pile of snow hadn’t sifted down there yesterday——­”

“I know!” burst out Ruth.  “It was providential.”

“You girls and boys want to be careful climbing around these rocks,” said Jerry Sheming, gravely.

At that moment the chorus of shouts from above reached their ears.  Ruth turned about and her lips opened.  She would have replied, but the backwoods boy leaped across the fire and seized her arm.

“Don’t make a sound!” he exclaimed.

“Oh!  Jerry——­”

“If that constable hears——­”

“He isn’t with us, I tell you,” said Ruth.

“But wait.  He might hear.  I don’t want him to find this place,” spoke the boy, eagerly.  “He may be within hearing.”

“No.  I think not,” Ruth explained.  Then she told Jerry of the morning’s hunt for him and the course followed by both parties.  He shook his head for a moment, and then ran to a shelf at the other side of the little cavern.

“I’ll communicate with your friends.  I’ll make them understand.  But we mustn’t shout.  Lem Daggett may be within hearing.”