Ruth Fielding in the Great Northwest by Alice B. Emerson

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And then came a number on the program that the four girls from Cheslow
had impatiently awaited. The announcer (Dakota Joe himself, on horseback
and wearing hair to his shoulders _a la_ Buffalo Bill) rode into the
center of the ring and held up a gauntleted hand for attention.

"We now offer you, ladies and gentlemen, an exhibition in rifle shooting
second to none on any program of any show in America to-day. The men of
the old West were most wonderful shots with rifle or six-gun. To-day the
new West produces a rifle shot that equals Wild Bill Hickok, Colonel
Cody himself, or Major Lillie. And to show that the new West, ladies and
gentlemen, is right up to the minute in this as in every other
pertic'lar, we offer Wonota, daughter of Chief Totantora, princess of
the Osage Indians, in a rifle-shooting act that, ladies and gentlemen,
is simply marv'lous--simply marv'lous!"

He waved a lordly hand, the band struck up a strident tune, and on a
"perfect love of a white pony," as Helen declared, Wonota rode into the
ring.

She looked just as calm as she had when she had shot the bull which
threatened Ruth. Nothing seemed to flutter the Indian girl's pulse or to
change her staid expression. Yet the girls noticed that Dakota Joe
spurred his big horse to the white pony's side, and, unless they were
mistaken, the man said something to Wonota in no pleasant manner.

"Look at that fellow!" exclaimed Helen. "Hasn't he an ugly look?"

"I guess he didn't say anything pleasant to her," Ruth rejoined, for she
was a keen observer. "I shouldn't wonder if that girl was far from
happy."

"I shouldn't want to work for that Dakota Joe," added Mercy Curtis.
"Look at him!"

Unable to make Wonota's expression of countenance change, the man, who
was evidently angry with the Indian girl, struck the white pony sharply
with his whip. The pony jumped, and some of the spectators, thinking it
a part of the program, laughed.

Unexpecting Dakota Joe's act, Wonota was not prepared for her mount's
jump. She was almost thrown from the saddle. But the next instant she
had tightened the pony's rein, hauled it back on its haunches with a
strong hand, and wheeled the animal to face Dakota Joe.

What she said to the man certainly Ruth and her friends could not
understand. It was said in the Osage tongue in any case. But with the
words the Indian girl thrust forward the light rifle which she carried.
For a moment its blue muzzle was set full against the white man's
chest.

"Oh!" gasped Jennie. And she was not alone in thus giving vent to her
excitement. "Oh!"

"Why doesn't she shoot him?" drawled Mercy Curtis.

"I--I guess It was only in fun," said Helen rather shakingly, as the
Indian girl wheeled her mount again and rode away from Dakota Joe.

"I wouldn't want her to be that funny with me," gasped Jennie Stone.
"She must be a regular wild Indian, after all."

"I am sure, at least, that this Dakota Joe person would have deserved
little sympathy if she had shot him," declared Mercy, with confidence.

"Dear me," admitted Ruth herself, "I want to meet that girl more than
ever now. There must be some mystery regarding her connection with the
owner of the show. They certainly are not in accord."

"You've said something!" agreed Jennie, likewise with conviction.

If Wonota had been at all flurried because of her treatment by her
employer, she no longer showed it. Having ridden to the proper spot, she
wheeled the white pony again and faced the place where there was a steel
shield against which the objects she was to shoot at were thrown.

Dakota Joe rode forward as though to affix the first clay ball to the
string. Then he pulled in his horse, scowled across the ring at Wonota,
and beckoned one of the cowboys to approach. This man took up the duty
of affixing the targets for the Indian girl.

"Do you see that?" chuckled Jennie Stone. "He's afraid she might change
her mind and shoot him after all."

"Sh!" cautioned Ruth. "Somebody might hear you. Now look."

The swinging targets were shattered by Wonota as fast as the man could
hook them to the string and set the string to swinging. Then he threw
glass balls filled with feathers into the air for the Indian girl to
explode.

It was evident that she was not doing as well as usual, for she missed
several shots. But this was not because of her own nervousness. Since
the pony had been cut with Dakota Joe's whip it would not stand still,
and its nervousness was plainly the cause of Wonota's misses.

The owner of the show was, however, the last person to admit this. He
showed more than annoyance as the act progressed.

Perhaps it was the strained relations so evident between the owner of
the show and Wonota that affected the man attending to the targets, for
he became rather wild. He threw a glass ball so far to one side that to
have shot at it would have endangered the spectators, and the Indian
girl dropped the muzzle of her rifle and shook her head. The curving
ball came within Dakota Joe's reach.

"Some baseball player, I'll say!" ejaculated Jennie Stone slangily.

For the owner of the show caught the flying ball. He wheeled his
spirited horse, and, holding the ball at arm's length, he spurred down
the field toward the Indian girl.

"Oh!" cried Ruth under her breath. "He is going to throw it at her!"

"The villain!" ejaculated Mercy Curtis, her eyes flashing.

But if that was his intention, Dakota Joe did not fulfill it. The Indian
girl whipped up the muzzle of her rifle and seemed to take deliberate
aim at the angry man. Evidently this act was not on the bill!

CHAPTER IV

SMOKING THE PEACE PIPE

Ruth Fielding almost screamed aloud. She rose in her seat, clinging to
Helen Cameron's arm.

"Oh! what will she do?" gasped the girl of the Red Mill, just as the
rifle in the Indian sharp-shooter's hands spat its brief tongue of
flame.

The glass ball in Dakota Joe's fingers was shattered and he went through
a cloud of feathers as he turned his horse at a tangent and rode away
from the Indian girl. It was a good shot, but one that the proprietor of
the Wild West Show did not approve of!

"Oh!" exclaimed Mercy Curtis, bitterly, "why didn't she shoot him
instead of the ball? He deserves it, I know."

"Dear me, Mercy," drawled Jennie Stone, "you most certainly are a
blood-thirsty person!"

"I just know that man is a villain, and the Indian girl is in his
power."

"Next reel!" giggled Helen. "It is a regular Western cinema drama, isn't
it?"

"I certainly want to become better acquainted with that Wonota,"
declared Ruth, not at all sure but that Mercy Curtis was right in her
opinion. "There! Wonota is going off."

The applause the Indian girl received was vociferous. Most of the
spectators believed that the shooting of the glass ball out of the man's
hand had been rehearsed and was one of Wonota's chief feats. Ruth and
her friends had watched what had gone before too closely to make that
mistake. There was plainly a serious schism between Dakota Joe and the
girl whom he had called the Indian princess.

The girls settled back in their seats after Wonota had replied to the
applause with a stiff little bow from the entrance to the dressing-tent.
The usual representation of "Pioneer Days" was then put on, and while
the "stage" was being set for the attack on the emigrant train and
Indian massacre, the fellow who had stood at the pasture fence and
talked to the girls when the black bull had done his turn, suddenly
appeared in the aisle between the plank seats and gestured to Ruth.

"What?" asked the girl of the Red Mill "You want me?"

"You're the lady," he said, grinning. "Won't keep you a minute. You can
git back and see the rest of the show all right."

"It must be that Wonota has sent him for me," explained Ruth, seeing no
other possible reason for this call. Refusing to let even Helen go with
her, she followed the man up the aisle and down a narrow flight of steps
to the ground.

"What is the matter with her? What does she want me for?" Ruth asked him
when she could get within earshot and away from the audience.

"Her?"

"Yes. You come from Wonota, don't you?"

The man chuckled, but still kept on. "You'll see her in a minute. Right
this way, Miss," he said.

They came to a canvas-enclosed place with a flap pinned back as though
it were the entrance to a tent. The guide flourished a hamlike hand,
holding back the canvas flap.

"Just step in and you'll find her," he said, again chuckling.

Ruth was one not easily alarmed. But the fellow seemed impudent. She
gave him a reproving look and marched into what appeared to be an
office, for there was a desk and a chair in view.

There, to her surprise, was Dakota Joe, the long-haired proprietor of
the Wild West Show! He stood leaning against a post, his arms folded and
smoking a very long and very black cigar. He did not remove his hat as
Ruth entered, but rolled his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the
other and demanded harshly:

"You know this Injun girl I got with the show?"

"Certainly I know her!" Ruth exclaimed without hesitation, "She saved my
life."

"Huh! I heard about that, ma'am. And I don't mean it just that way. I'm
talking about her--drat her! She says she has got a date with you and
your friends between the afternoon and night shows."

"Yes," Ruth said wonderingly. "We are to meet--and talk."

"That's just it, ma'am," said the man, rolling the cigar again in an
offensive way. "That's just it. When you come to talk with that Injun
girl, I want you to steer her proper on one p'int. We're white, you an'
me, and I reckon white folks will stick together when it comes to a game
against reds. Get me?"

"I do not think I do--yet," answered Ruth hesitatingly.

"Why, see here, now," Dakota Joe went on. "It's easy to see you're a
lady--a white lady. I'm a white gent. This Injun wench has got it in for
me. Did you see what she come near doin' to me right out there in the
ring?"

Ruth restrained a strong wish to tell him exactly what she had seen. But
somehow she felt that caution in the handling of this rough man would be
the wiser part.

"I saw that she made a very clever shot in breaking that ball in your
hand, Mr. Dakota Joe," the girl of the Red Mill said.

"Heh? Well, didn't you see she aimed straight at me? Them reds ain't got
no morals. They'd jest as lief shoot a feller they didn't like as not.
We have to keep 'em down all the time. I know. I been handling 'em for
years."

"Well, sir?" asked Ruth impatiently.

"Why, this Wonota--drat her!--is under contract with me. She's a drawin'
card, I will say. But she's been writin' back to the agency where I got
her and making me trouble. She means to leave me flat if she can---and a
good winter season coming on."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Mr.--er--Dakota Joe?" asked Ruth.

"Fenbrook. Fenbrook's my name, ma'am," tardily explained the showman.
"Now, see here. She's nothin' but an ignorant redskin. Yep. She's
daughter of old Totantora, hereditary chief of the Osages. But he's out
of the way and her guardian is the Indian Agent at Three Rivers Station
in Oklahoma where the Osages have their reservation. As I say, this gal
has writ to the agent and told him a pack o' lies about how bad she is
treated. And she ain't treated bad a mite."

"Well, Mr. Fenbrook?" demanded Ruth again.

"Why, see now. This Injun gal thinks well of you. I know what she's told
the other performers. And I see her looking at you. Naturally, being
nothin' but a redskin, she'll look up to a white lady like you. You tell
her she's mighty well off here, all things considered--will you? Just
tell her how hard some gals of her age have to work, while all she does
is to ride and shoot in a show. All them Injuns is crazy to be
play-actors, you know. Even old Chief Totantora was till he got mixed up
with them Germans when the war come on.

"Huh? You savvy my idee, Miss? Jest tell her she's better off with the
show than she would be anywhere else. Will you? Do as I say, Miss, and
I'll slip you a bunch of tickets for all your friends. We're showin' at
Great Forks on Friday, at Perryville Saturday, and at Lymansburg fust of
the week. You can take your friends in and have fust-class seats to all
them places."

"Thank you very much, Mr. Fenbrook," said Ruth, having difficulty to
keep from laughing. "But owing to other engagements I could not possibly
accept your kind offer. However, I will speak to the girl and advise her
to the best of my ability."

Which was exactly what Ruth did when, later, she and her friends were
met by the Princess Wonota at the exit of the big tent. The girl of the
Red Mill had had no opportunity to explain to Helen and Jennie and Mercy
in full about her interview with Dakota Joe. But she was quite decided
as to what she proposed to do.

"Let us go on to the automobile, girls," Ruth said, taking Wonota's
hand. "We want to talk where nobody will overhear us."

It was Mercy, when they arrived at Helen's car, who put the first
question to the Indian maid:

"Why didn't you shoot that man? I would have done so!"

"Oh, hush, Mercy!" ejaculated Jennie Stone. "She will think you are
quite a savage."

Helen laughed gaily and helped Wonota into the tonneau.

"Come on!" she cried. "Let us smoke the peace-pipe and tell each other
all our past lives."

But Ruth remained rather grave, looking steadily at the Indian girl.
When they were seated, she said:

"If you care to confide in us, Wonota, perhaps we can advise you, or
even help you. I know that you are unhappy and unkindly treated at this
show. I owe you so much that I would be glad to feel that I had done
something for you in return."

The grave face of the Indian girl broke into a slow smile. When she did
smile, Ruth thought her very winsome indeed. Now that she had removed
her headdress and wore her black hair in two glossy plaits over her
shoulders, she was even more attractive.

"You are very kind," Wonota said. "But perhaps I should not trouble you
with any of my difficulties."

"If you have troubles," interposed Jennie, "you've come to the right
shop. We all have 'em and a few more won't hurt us a bit. We're just
dying to know why that man treats you so mean."

"He wouldn't treat me that way!" put in Mercy vigorously.

"But you see I--I am quite alone," explained Wonota. "Since Father
Totantora went away I have been without any kin and almost without
friends in our nation."

"That is it," said Ruth. "Begin at the beginning. Tell us how the chief
came to leave you, and how you got mixed up with this Dakota Joe. I have
a very small opinion of that man," added the girl of the Red Mill, "and
I do not think you should remain in his care."

CHAPTER V

INSPIRATION

It was on the verge of evening, and a keen and searching wind was
blowing across the ruffled Lumano, when Helen Cameron's car and its
three occupants came in sight of the old Red Mill. Mercy Curtis had been
dropped at the Cheslow railway station, where she had the "second trick"
as telegraph operator.

For the last few miles of the journey from the Wild West Show there had
been a good-natured, wordy battle between Ruth and Helen as to which of
the twain was to have Jennie Stone for the night.

"Her trunk is at my house," Helen declared. "So now!"

"But her toilet bag is at the farmhouse. And, anyway, I could easily
lend her pajamas."

"She could never get into a suit of yours, you know very well, Ruth
Fielding!" exclaimed Helen.

"I'd get one of Uncle Jabez's long flannel nightgowns for her, then,"
giggled Ruth.

"Look here! I don't seem to be in such great favor with either of you,
after all," interposed the plump girl. "One would think I was a freak.
And I prefer my own night apparel in any case."

"Then you'll come home with me," Helen announced.

"But I have things at Ruth's house, just as she says," said Jennie.

At the moment the car wheeled around the turn in the road and Helen
stopped it at the gate before the old, shingled farmhouse which was
connected by a passage with the grist mill. A light flashed in the
window and at once the place looked very inviting. A door opened upon
the side porch, and to the girls' nostrils was wafted a most delicious
odor of frying cakes.

"That settles it!" ejaculated Jennie Stone, and immediately sprang out
of the car. "I'm as hungry as a bear. I'll see you to-morrow, Nell, if
you'll ride over. But don't come too near mealtime. I never could
withstand Aunt Alvirah's cooking. M-mm! Griddle-cakes--with lashin's of
butter and sugar on 'em, I wager."

"Dear me!" sighed Helen, as Ruth, too, got out, laughing. "You are
incurable, Jennie. Your goddess is your tummy."

But the plump girl was not at all abashed. She ran up the walk on to the
porch and warmly greeted the little old woman who stood in the doorway.

"How-do, Jennie. Oh, my back and oh, my bones! Be careful, child! I'm
kinder tottery to-day, and no mistake. Coming in, Helen Cameron?"

"Not to-night, Aunt Alvirah," replied the girl, starting the car again.
"Good-night, all."

"And here's my pretty!" crooned Aunt Alvirah, putting up her thin arms
to encircle Ruth's neck as the girl came in. "It does seem good to have
you home again. Your Uncle Jabez (who is softer-hearted than you would
suppose) is just as glad to have you home as I am, to be sure."

They had a merry supper in the wide, home-like kitchen, for even the
miller when he came in was cheerful. He had had a good day at the grist
mill. The cash-box was heavy that night, but he did not retire to his
room to count his receipts as early as usual. The chatter of the two
girls kept the old man interested.

"It is a shame that the Indian agent should let a girl like Wonota sign
a contract with that Dakota Joe. Anybody might see, to look at him, that
he was a bad man," Jennie Stone said with vehemence at one point in the
discussion.

"I am not much troubled over that point for the girl," said Ruth. "She
says she has already written to the agent at the Three Rivers Station,
Oklahoma, telling him how badly Fenbrook treats her. That will soon be
over. She will get her release."

"I shouldn't wonder," said Uncle Jabez, "that if a gal can fire a gun
like you say she can, there ain't much reason to worry about her. She
can take care of herself with that showman."

"But suppose she should be tempted to do something really desperate!"
cried Ruth. "I hope nothing like that will happen. She is really a
savage by instinct."

"And a pretty one," agreed Jennie, thoughtfully.

"Shucks! Pretty is as pretty does," said Aunt Alvirah. "I didn't s'pose
there was any real wild Injuns left."

"You'd think she was wild," chuckled Jennie, "if you'd seen her draw
bead on that Dakota Joe person."

"All that is not so much to the point," pursued Ruth. "I know that the
girl wants to earn money--not alone for her mere living. She could go
back to the reservation and live very comfortably without working--much.
The Osage Nation is not at all poverty stricken and it holds its
property ill community fashion."

"What makes her travel around in such a foolish way, then?" Aunt Alvirah
asked.

"She wants ready cash. She wants it for a good purpose, too," explained
Ruth thoughtfully. "You see, this girl's father is Chief Totantora, a
leading figure in the Osage Nation. The year before Germany began the
war he was traveling with a Wild West Show in Europe. The show was in
the interior of Germany when war came and the frontiers were closed.

"Once only did Wonota hear from her father. He was then in a detention
camp, for, being a good American, he refused to bow down to Hun gods--"

"I should say he had a right to call himself an American, if anybody
has," said Jennie quickly.

"And he is not the only Indian who proved his loyalty to a Government
that, perhaps, has not always treated the original Americans justly,"
Ruth remarked.

"I dunno," grumbled Uncle Jabez. "Injuns is Injuns. You say yourself
this gal is pretty wild."

"She is independent, at any rate. She wishes to earn enough money to set
afoot a private inquiry for Chief Totantora. For she does not believe he
is dead."

"Well, the poor dear," Aunt Alvirah said, "she'd ought to be helped, I
haven't a doubt."

"Now, now!" exclaimed the miller, suspiciously. "Charity begins at home.
I hope you ain't figgerin' on any foolish waste of money, Niece Ruth."

The latter laughed. "I don't think Wonota would accept charity," she
said. "And I have no intention of offering it to her in any case. But I
should like to help the girl find her father--indeed I should."

"You'd oughtn't to think you have to help everybody you come 'cross in
the world, gal," advised Uncle Jabez, finally picking up the cash-box to
retire to his room. "Every tub ought to stand on its own bottom, as I've
allus told ye."

When he was gone Aunt Alvirah shook her head sadly.

"Ain't much brotherhood of man in Jabez Potter's idees of life," she
said. "He says nobody ever helped him get up in the world, so why should
he help others?"

"Of all things!" exclaimed Ruth, with some warmth. "I wonder what he
would have done all these years without you to make a home for him
here!"

"Tut, tut!" objected the old woman. "'Tain't me that's done for him. I
was a poor lone creeter in the poorhouse when Jabez Potter came and took
me out. I know that deep down in his old heart there's a flame of
charity. Who should know it better?"

"Oh, dear!" cried Ruth. "He keeps it wonderfully well hidden--that
flame. He certainly does."

Jennie laughed. "Well, why shouldn't he be cautious? See how many times
you have been charitable, Ruth, and seen no gratitude in return."

"Well!" gasped the girl of the Red Mill, in disgust, "is _that_ what we
are to be charitable for? For shame!"

"Right you are, my pretty," said Aunt Alvirah. "Doin' one's duty for
duty's sake is the way the good Lord intended. And if Jabez Potter is
charitable without knowin' it--and he _is_--all the better. It's charged
up to his credit in heaven, I have no doubt."

The girls were tired after their long ride in the keen evening air and
they were ready for bed at a comparatively early hour. But after Ruth
had got into bed she could not sleep.

Thoughts rioted in her brain. For a week she had felt the inspiration of
creative work milling in her mind--that is what she called it. She had
promised the president of the Alectrion Film Corporation to think up
some unusual story--preferably an outdoor plot--for their next picture.
And thus far nothing had formed in her mind that suggested the thing
desired.

Outdoor stories had the call on the screen. They had but lately made one
on the coast of Maine, the details of which are given in "Ruth Fielding
Down East." Earlier in her career as a screen writer the girl of the Red
Mill had made a success of a subject which was photographed in the
mining country of the West. "Ruth Fielding in the Saddle" tells the
story of this venture.

There spun through her half-drowsing brain scenes of the Wild West Show
they had attended this day. That was surely "outdoor stuff." Was there
anything in what she had seen to-day to suggest a novel scheme for a
moving picture?

She turned and tossed. Her eyes would not remain closed. The program of
Dakota Joe's Wild West and Frontier Round-Up marched in sequence through
her memory. She did not want anything like that in her picture. It was
all "old stuff," and the crying need of the film producer is "something
new under the sun."

Yet there was color and action in much of the afternoon's performance.
Even Dakota Joe himself--as the figure of a villain, for instance--was
not to be scorned. And Princess Wonota herself--

If the story was up to date, showing the modern, full-blooded Indian
princess in love and action! Ruth suddenly bounded out of bed. She
grabbed a warm robe, wrapped herself in it and ran across to Jennie's
room.

"Jennie! Jennie! I've got it!" Ruth cried in a loud whisper.

Jennie's only answer was a prolonged and pronounced snore! She was lying
on her back.

"Jennie Stone!" exclaimed Ruth, shaking the plump girl by the shoulder.

"Wo--wow--ough! Is it fire?" gasped Jennie, finally aroused.

"No, no! I've got it!" repeated Ruth.

"Well--ell--I hope it isn't catching," said the other rather crossly.
"You've spoiled--ow!--my beauty sleep, Ruthie Fielding."

"Listen!" commanded her friend. "I've the greatest idea for a picture. I
know Mr. Hammond will be delighted. I am going to get Wonota on contract
when she breaks with Dakota Joe. I'll make her the central figure of a
big picture. She shall be the leading lady."

"Why, Ruthie Fielding! that's something you have never yet done for me,
and I have been your friend for years and years."

"Never mind. When it seems that the time is ripe to screen a story about
a pretty, plump girl, you shall have an important part in the
production," promised Ruth. "But listen to me--do! I am going to make
Princess Wonota an Indian star--"

"I believe you," drawled the plump girl. "I suppose you might call her a
'shooting star'?"

CHAPTER VI

EVERYBODY AGREES BUT DAKOTA JOE

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