She proved this by immediately starting out of the cellar. Ruth lit the way with the lantern.
"Hi!" shouted Curly Smith, "where are you going with that light?"
"Come back to the door," commanded Ruth's muffled voice in the cellar. "You can find your way all right."
"What do you know about that?" demanded Ann. "Leaves us in the lurch for that miserable child, who ought to be walloped."
"Oh, Ann, don't say that!" cried Ruth, as she and the sick girl appeared at the mill door. "No! don't come near us. I'll carry the lantern myself and lead Amy. She's not feeling well, but she can walk. We must get her to Mrs. Smith's just as soon as possible and call a doctor."
"What's the matter with her?" demanded Curly, curiously.
"She feels bad. That's enough," said Ruth, shortly. "Come on, Amy."
For once Amy Gregg was glad to accept Ruth Fielding's help. She had no idea what Ruth thought was the matter with her, and she stumbled on beside the older girl, sleepy and ill, given up to utter misery. Curly and Ann began to be suspicious when Ruth forbade them to approach Amy and herself.
"Old Scratch!" whispered the boy to the Western girl. "I bet Amy's got small-pox or something. Ruth Fielding will catch it, too."
"Hush!" exclaimed Ann, fiercely. "It's not as bad as that."