It was only after a wild scramble on Helen’s part—and on Ruth’s, too, since she was forced to pack Helen’s grip as well as her own—that they succeeded in reaching the dock in time to board the steamer.
Ruth found her company at the wharf before her and was relieved to find, as the gangplank was drawn up, that no one had been left behind.
“Except Joe Rumph,” she whispered to Tom, as the space slowly widened between the ship and the wharf. “I think I could have been quite content to have left him behind!”
The bustle and activity of the harbor was an inspiration in itself. Ruth’s eyes sparkled as she gazed out over the busy scene. Ships of all sizes and descriptions crowded the port. Except for the addition of many lumber boats, Ruth might almost have imagined herself back in New York, gazing out over lower New York Harbor.
The steamer was crowded and it was with difficulty that Tom kept his little flock together. He managed to get them all safely established finally in the staterooms he had reserved for them, and then came back to rejoin Ruth, who had lingered on deck, watching the shipping on Puget Sound.
“Some crowd, eh?” he greeted her buoyantly, as he fought his way through to her side. “This is the Yukon’s open season, and it seems as if the whole world had taken advantage of the fact. What are you thinking about so deeply, Ruth?”
For answer Ruth put a hand upon his arm and held up a finger warningly.
“Listen!” she said in a low voice.
Somewhere behind them a laughing voice came clearly to their ears.
“Wonder if we’ll run into Sol Bloomberg on this trip?”