Ruth Fielding on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Queer Old Man of the Thousand Islands

by Alice B. Emerson

Just how mentally disturbed the old man was it was difficult for the girl to judge. But she feared that he had, after all his claims, absolutely no influence with the Chinamen.

She believed that the leader of the Orientals was the heavy-set Chinaman who had struck Chessleigh Copley down with the club. The others—some smoking the little brass pipes, and others not smoking—were probably men who were endeavoring to get into the States without the knowledge of the emigration authorities. Indeed, they were already in New York. This island was south of the American line. But from the Kingdom of Pipes to any city where the Chinamen would be safe from apprehension was a pretty big jump.

As for the opium—the smoke of which Ruth smelled now for the first time—she had no idea how that commodity might be handled or disposed of. She knew that it was valuable, even when imported for medicinal purposes. There was a heavy tariff on it, as well as restrictions upon the trading in it.

If those boxes—each as heavy as a man could lift and which she and Chess had seen brought ashore on this island—contained opium, there might be many thousand of dollars’ worth of the drug, in its paste form, here now. Perhaps it was hidden somewhere in this cave.

Ruth had seated herself upon the end of one of the low tables. She knew that all the furniture in the cavern, including the rugs, must be of Chinese manufacture. There could be no doubt that the place was fitted up for the convenience of the Orientals.

She looked about, trying to penetrate the obscurity of the place. Were there passages besides the one by which she and Chess had been dragged in? Were there other apartments in the cavern, shut off by some of the hanging rugs which she saw?

Her principal thought, however, was of the possibility of escape. And she wished heartily that she and Copley could get out of the cave before the arrival of the “others” of whom the King of the Pipes had spoken. Whoever they might be—or whether Horatio Bilby was one of them—Ruth did not want to meet the smugglers and Chinese runners.

She feared very much for her safety, and for that of her companion. The law-breakers would know immediately that their safety was threatened. They must know that if they allowed Ruth and Chess to depart from the cave, their presence here and what they were doing would be reported to the police. And men like Bilby, who would stoop to anything for money, were not likely to give over such a profitable business as the smuggling of opium without a fight.

Just how much did Bilby and his companions care for the law? It was a question that created no little anxiety in Ruth’s mind. And she wondered, too, what Chess thought about it.

The young fellow lay upon the floor of the cavern, silent and immovable. She was quite sure, by the exceedingly knowing wink that he had given her, that he was neither panic-stricken nor seriously hurt. He was merely waiting to see what would turn up.