It was of no use. She had known from the first that she might as well try to push Snow Mountain from its resting place as to attempt to open the cruel trap with her bare fingers.
She was hungry and thirsty and utterly exhausted. Would she have to spend the night there? she wondered, dully.
Meanwhile, back at headquarters, Tom had heard news of vital importance to Ruth, news that had sent him rushing grimly after her.
Luckily she had told him the general direction of her wanderings, so that, once on his way, it took him only a short time to find her.
His cries of “Ruth! Ruth! Where are you?” brought an answering, sobbing cry from the girl.
His heart full of apprehension, Tom plunged through the bushes in the direction of that pitiful cry.
He found the girl huddled on the ground, her face white and drawn with pain, a gallant smile of welcome touching her pale lips.
He saw at once what the matter was and set to work without waste of words to liberate the imprisoned foot. He searched about until he found two flat slabs of stone, then wedged these in between the steel jaws of the cruel trap. He managed at last, by exerting his utmost strength, to loosen them just enough to permit Ruth to drag her foot and ankle through.
“Lucky for me, Tom, that you happened along just then,” she said unsteadily, as Tom stooped gently to unlace the boot.
Something in his face as he glanced pityingly at her warned the girl that all was not well.