Ruth Fielding in the Great Northwest by Alice B. Emerson

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"I say she didn't!" cried Dakota Joe. "Officer! You serve that
warrant--Hey! where's that Wonota gone to?"

The Indian girl and Ruth's friends had disappeared. Dakota Joe lunged
for the gate. But since the beginning of the war this particular
railroad yard had been closed to the public. A man stood at the gate who
barred the entrance of the showman.

"You don't come in here, brother," said the railroad man. "Not unless
you've got a pass or a permit."

"Hey!" shouted Dakota Joe, calling the marshal. "Show this guy your
warrant."

"Don't show me nothin'," rejoined the railroad employee. He let Ruth
slip through and whispered: "Your party's aboard your car. There's a
switcher coupled on. She'll scoot you all down the yard to the main
line. Get aboard."

Ruth slipped through the gate, while the guard stood in a position to
prevent the two men from approaching it. The girl heard the gate close
behind her.

It was evident that Mr. Hammond had been apprised of Dakota Joe's
attempt to bring the Indian girl into court. Of course, the judge would
deny his appeal; but a court session would delay the party's journey
westward.

Ruth saw the other girls ahead of her, and she ran to the car. Mr.
Hammond himself was on the platform to welcome them.

"That fellow is a most awful nuisance. I had to make an arrangement with
the railroad company to get us out of here at once. Luckily I have a
friend high up among the officials of the company. Come aboard, Miss
Ruth. Everybody else is here and we are about to start."

CHAPTER XIV

THE HUBBELL RANCH

"You see, Miss Ruth," Mr. Hammond told the girl of the Red Mill as the
special car rolled out of the railroad yard, "this Dakota Joe has become
a very annoying individual. We had to fairly run away from him."

"I do not understand," Ruth said. "I think he should be shown his
place--and that place I believe is the police station."

"It would be rather difficult to get him into that for any length of
time. And in any case," and the picture producer smiled, it would cost
more than it would be worth. He really has done nothing for which he can
be punished--"

"I don't know. He might have had me killed that time his auto ran me
down," interrupted Ruth, indignantly.

"But the trouble is, we cannot prove that," Mr. Hammond hastened to
repeat. "I will see that you are fully protected from him hereafter."

Mr. Hammond did not realize what a large undertaking that was to be.
But he meant it at the time.

"The man is in trouble--no doubt of it," went on the producer
reflectively. "He has had a bad season, and his winter prospects are not
bright. I gave him an hour of my time yesterday before I advised you
that we would better get away from Chicago."

"But what does he expect of you, Mr. Hammond?" asked Ruth in surprise.

"He claims we are the cause of his unhappy business difficulties. His
show in on the verge of disintegrating. He wanted me to back him with
several thousand dollars. Of course, that is impossible."

"Why!" cried Ruth, "I would not risk a cent with such a man."

"I suppose not. And I felt no urge to comply with his request. He was
really so rough about it, and became so ugly, that I had to have him
shown out of the house."

"Goodness! I am glad we are going far away from him."

"Yes, he is not a nice neighbor," agreed Mr. Hammond. "I hope Wonota
will repay us for all the bother we have had with Dakota Joe."

"It seems too bad. Of course, it is not Wonota's fault," said Ruth. "But
if we had not come across her--if I had not met her, I mean--you would
not have been annoyed in this way, Mr. Hammond."

"Take it the other way around, Miss Ruth," returned her friend, with a
quizzical smile. "We should be very glad that you did meet Wonota.
Considering what that mad bull would have done to you if she had not
swerved him by a rifle shot, a little bother like this is a small price
to pay."

"Oh--well!"

"In addition," said Mr. Hammond briskly, "look what we may make out of
the Indian girl. She may coin us a mint of money, Ruth Fielding."

"Perhaps," smiled Ruth.

But she was not so eager for money. The thing that fascinated her
imagination was the possibility that they might make of Wonota, the
Osage maiden, a great and famous movie star. Ruth desired very much to
have a part in that work.

She knew, because Mr. Hammond had told her, as well as Wonota herself,
that the Osage Indians as a tribe were the wealthiest people under the
guardianship of the American Government. Their oil leases were fast
bringing the tribe a great fortune. But Wonota, being under age, had no
share in this wealth. At this time the income of the tribe was between
four and five thousand dollars a day--and the tribe was not large.

"But Wonota can have none of that," explained the Indian maid. "It is
apportioned to the families, and Totantora, the head of my family, is
somewhere in that Europe where the war is. I can get no share of the
money. It is not allowed."

So, with the incentive of getting money for her search, Wonota was
desirous of pleasing her white friends in every particular. Besides,
ambition had budded in the girl's heart. She wanted to be a screen
actress.

"If your 'Brighteyes,' Miss Fielding, is ever shown at Three Rivers
Station or Pawhuska, where the Agency is, I know every member of the
tribe will go to see the film. When some of the young men of our tribe
acted in a round-up picture when I was a little girl, even the old men
and great-grandmothers traveled a hundred miles to see the film run off.
It was like an exodus, for some of them were two days and nights on the
way"

"The Osage Indians are not behind the times, then?" laughed Ruth. "They
are movie fans?"

"They realize that their own day has departed. The buffalo and elk have
gone. Even the prairie chickens are seen but seldom. Almost no game is
found upon our plains, and not much back in the hills. Many of our young
men till the soil. Some have been to the Carlisle School and have taken
up professions or are teachers. The Osage people are no longer warlike.
But some of our young men volunteered for this white man's war."

"I know that," sad Ruth warmly. "I saw some of them over there in
France--at least, some Indian volunteers. Captain Cameron worked in the
Intelligence Service with some of them. That is the spy service, you
know. The Indians were just as good scouts in France and Belgium as they
were on their own plains."

"We are always the same. It is only white men who change," declared
Wonota with confidence. "The redman is never two-faced or two-tongued."

"Well," grumbled Jennie, afterward, "what answer was there to make to
that? She has her own opinion of Lo, the poor Indian, and it would be
impossible to shake it."

"Who wants to shake it?" demanded Helen. "Maybe she is right, at that!"

The thing about Wonota that "gave the fidgets" to Jennie and Helen was
the fact that she could sit for mile after mile, while the train rocked
over the rails, beading moccasins and other wearing apparel, and with
scarcely a glance out of the car window. Towns, villages, rivers,
plains, woods and hills, swept by in green and brown panorama, and
seemed to interest Wonota not at all. It was only when the train, after
they changed at Denver, began to climb into the Rockies that the Indian
maid grew interested.

The Osage Indians had always been a plains' tribe. The rugged and
white-capped heights interested Wonota because they were strange to
her. Here, too, were primeval forests visible from the windows of the
car. Hemlock and spruce in black masses clothed the mountainsides, while
bare-limbed groves of other wood filled the valleys and the sweeps of
the hills.

Years before Ruth and her two chums had been through this country in
going to "Silver Ranch," but the charm of its mysterious gorges, its
tottering cliffs, its deep canyons where the dashing waters flowed, and
the generally rugged aspect of all nature, did not fail now to awe them.
Wonota was not alone in gazing, enthralled, at the landscape which was
here revealed.

Two days of this journey amid the mountains, and the train slowed down
at Clearwater, where the special car was sidetracked. Although the
station was some distance from the "location" Mr. Hammond's
representative had selected for the taking of the outdoor pictures, the
company was to use the car as its headquarters. There were several
automobiles and a herd of riding ponies at hand for the use of the
company. Here, too, Mr. Hammond and his companions were met by the
remainder of the performers selected to play parts in "Brighteyes."

There were about twenty riders--cowpunchers and the like; "stunt
riders," for the most part. In addition there were more than a score of
Indians--some pure blood like Wonota, but many of them halfbreeds, and
all used to the moving picture work, down to the very toddlers clinging
to their mothers' blankets. The Osage princess was inclined to look
scornfully at this hybrid crew at first. Finally, however, she found
them to be very decent sort of folk, although none of them were of her
tribe.

Ruth and Helen and Jennie met several riders who had worked for Mr.
Hammond when he had made Ruth's former Western picture which is
described in "Ruth Fielding in the Saddle," and the gallant Westerners
were ready to devote themselves to the entertainment of the girls from
the East.

There was only one day of planning and making ready for the picture, in
which Helen and Jennie could be "beaued" about by the cow-punchers. Ruth
was engaged with Mr. Hammond, Jim Hooley, and the camera man and their
assistants. Everyone was called for work on the ensuing morning and the
automobiles and the cavalcade of pony-riders started for the Hubbell
Ranch.

Wonota rode in costume and upon a pony that was quite the equal of her
own West Wind. This pet she had shipped from the Red Mill to her home in
Oklahoma before going to New York. The principal characters had made up
at the car and went out in costume, too, They had to travel about ten
miles to the first location.

The Hubbell Ranch grazed some steers; but It was a horse ranch in
particular. The country was rugged and offered not very good pasturage
for cattle. But the stockman, Arad Hubbell, was one of the largest
shippers of horses and mules in the state.

It was because of the many half-broken horses and mules to be had on the
ranch that Mr. Hammond had decided to make "Brighteyes" here. The first
scenes of the prologue--including the Indian scare--were to be taken in
the open country near the ranch buildings. Naturally the buildings were
not included in any of the pictures.

A train of ten emigrant wagons, drawn by mules, made an imposing showing
as it followed the dusty cattle trail. The train wound in and out of
coulees, through romantic-looking ravines, and finally out upon the flat
grass-country where the Indians came first into view of the supposedly
frightened pilgrims.

Helen and Jennie, as well as Ruth herself, in the gingham and sunbonnets
of the far West of that earlier day, added to the crowd of emigrants
riding in the wagons. When the Indians were supposed to appear the
excitement of the players was very realistic indeed, and this included
the mules! The stock was all fresh, and the excitement of the human
performers spread to it. The wagons raced over the rough trail in a way
that shook up severely the girls riding in them.

"Oh--oo!" squealed Jennie Stone, clinging to Ruth and Helen. "What _are_
they trying to do? I'll be one m-a-ass of bruises!"

"Stop, William!" commanded Ruth, trying to make the driver of their
wagon hear her. "This is too--too realistic."

The man did not seem to hear her at all. Ruth scrambled up and staggered
toward the front, although Mr. Hooley had instructed the girls to remain
at the rear of the wagons so that they could be seen from the place
where the cameras were stationed.

"Stop!" cried Ruth again. "You will tip us over--or something."

There was good reason why William did not obey. His six mules had broken
away from his control entirely.

A man must be a master driver to hold the reins over three span of
mules; and William was as good as any man in the outfit. But as he got
his team into a gallop the leaders took fright at the charging Indians
on pony-back, and tried to leave the trail.

William was alone on the driver's seat. He put all his strength into an
attempt to drag the leaders back into the trail and--the rein broke!

Under ordinary circumstances this accident would not have been of much
moment. But to have pulled the other mules around, and so throw the
runaways, would have spoiled the picture. William was too old a movie
worker to do that.

When Ruth stumbled to the front of the swaying wagon and seized his
shoulder he cast rather an embarrassed glance back at her.

"Stop them! Stop!" the girl commanded.

"I'd like mighty well to do it, Miss Fielding," said William, wagging
his head, "but these dratted mules have got their heads
and--they--ain't---no notion o' stoppin' this side of the ranch
corrals."

Ruth understood him. She stared straight ahead with a gaze that became
almost stony. This leading wagon was heading for the break of a ravine
into which the trail plunged at a sharp angle. If the mules were swerved
at the curve the heavy wagon would surely overturn.

In twenty seconds the catastrophe would happen!

CHAPTER XV

PURSUING DANGER

When a mule is once going, it is just as stubborn about stopping as it
is about being started if it feels balky. The leading span attached to
the covered wagon in which Ruth and her two chums, Helen Cameron and
Jennie Stone, rode had now communicated their own fright to the four
other animals. All six were utterly unmanageable.

"Do tell him to stop, Ruth!" shrieked Jennie Stone from the rear of the
wagon.

The next moment she shot into the air as the wheels on one side bounced
over an outcropping boulder. She came down clawing at Helen to save
herself from flying out of the end of the wagon.

"Oh! This is too much!" shouted Helen, quite as frightened as her
companion. "I mean to get out! Don't a-a-ask me to--to act in moving
pictures again. I never will!"

"Talk about rough stuff!" groaned Jennie. "This is the limit."

Neither of them realized the danger that threatened. Of the three girls
only Ruth knew what was just ahead. The maddened mules were dragging the
emigrant wagon for a pitch into the ravine that boded nothing less than
disaster for all.

In the band of Indians riding for the string of covered wagons Wonota
had been numbered. She could ride a barebacked pony as well as any buck
in the party. She had removed her skirt and rode in the guise of a young
brave. The pinto pony she bestrode was speedy, and the Osage maid
managed him perfectly.

Long before the train of wagons and the pursuing band of Indians got
into the focus of the cameras, Wonota, as well as her companions, saw
that the six mules drawing the head wagon were out of control. The dash
of the frightened animals added considerable to the realism of the
picture, as they swept past Jim Hooley and his camera men; but the
director was quite aware that disaster threatened William's outfit.

"Crank it up! Crank it!" he commanded the camera men. "It looks as if we
were going to get something bigger than we expected."

Mr. Hammond stood behind him. He saw the three white girls in the rear of
the wagon. It was he who shouted:

"That runaway must be stopped! It's Miss Fielding and her friends in
that wagon. Stop them!"

"Great Scott, Boss! how you going to stop those mules?" Jim Hooley
demanded.

But Wonota did not ask anybody as to the method of stopping the runaway.
She was perfectly fearless--of either horses or mules. She lashed her
pinto ahead of the rest of the Indian band, cut across a curve of the
trail, and bore down on the runaway wagon.

"That confounded girl is spoiling the shot!" yelled Hooley.

"Never mind! Never mind!" returned Mr. Hammond. "She is going to do
something. There!"

And Wonota certainly did do something. Aiming her pinto across the noses
of the lead-mules, she swerved them off the trail before they reached
that sharp turn at the break of the rough hill. The broken rein made it
impossible for the driver to swerve the leaders that way; but Wonota
turned the trick.

William stood up, despite the bounding wagon, his foot on the brake,
yanking with all his might at the jaws of the other four mules. All six
swung in a wide circle. But William admitted that it was the Indian girl
who started the crazed mules into this path.

The wheels dipped and bounced, threatening each moment to capsize the
wagon. But the catastrophe did not occur. The other Indians rode down
upon the head of the string of wagons madly, with excited whoops. For
once the whole crowd forgot that they were making a picture.

And that very forgetfulness on the part of the actors made the picture a
great success The finish was not quite as Ruth had written the story, or
as Hooley had planned to take it. But it was better!

"It's a peach! It's a peach! The shot was perfect!" the director cried,
smiting Mr. Hammond on the back in his excitement. "What do you know
about that, Boss? Can't we let her stand as the camera has it?"

"I believe it is a good shot," agreed Mr. Hammond. "We'll try it out
to-night in the car." One end of the special car was arranged as a
projection room. "If the Indians did not hide the wagon too much, that
dash of the girl was certainly spectacular."

"It was a peach," again declared the director. "And nobody will ever see
that she is a girl instead of a man. We got one good shot, here, Mr.
Hammond, whether anything else comes out right or not."

The girls who had taken the parts of emigrant women in the runaway wagon
were not quite so enthusiastic over the success of the event, not even
when the director sent his congratulations to them. All three were
determined that if a "repeat" was demanded, they would refuse to play
the parts again.

"I don't want to ride in anything like that wagon again," declared Ruth.
"It was awful."

"Enough is enough," agreed Helen. "Another moment, and we would have
been out on our heads."

"I'm black and blue--or will be--from collar to shoes. _What_ a jouncing
we did get! Girls, do you suppose that fellow with the shaggy ears did
it on purpose?"

"Whom do you mean--William or one of the mules?" asked Helen.

"I am sure William was helpless," said Ruth. "He was just as much scared
as we were. But Wonota was just splendid!"

"I am willing to pass her a vote of thanks," groaned Jennie. "But we
can't expect her to be always on hand to save us from disaster. You
don't catch me in any such jam again."

"Oh, nothing like this is likely to happen to us again," Ruth said.
"We're just as safe taking this picture as we would be at home--at the
Red Mill, for instance."

"I don't know about that," grumbled Helen. "I feel that more trouble is
hanging over us. I feel it in my bones."

"You'd better get a new set of bones," said Ruth cheerfully. "Yours seem
to be worse, even, than poor Aunt Alvira's."

"Nell believes that life is just one thing after another," chuckled
Jennie Stone. "Having struck a streak of bad luck, it _must_ keep up."

"You wait and see," proclaimed Helen Cameron, decisively nodding her
head.

"That's the easiest thing in the world to do--_wait_," gibed Ruth.

"No, it isn't, either. It's the hardest thing to do," declared Jennie,
and Ruth thought she could detect a shade of sadness in the light tone
the plump girl adopted. "And especially when--as Nell predicts--we are
waiting for some awful disaster. Huh--" and the girl shuddered as
realistically as perfect health and unshaken nerves and good nature
would permit--"are we to pass our lives under the shadow of impending
peril?"

It did seem, however, as though Helen had come under the mantle of some
seeress of old. Jennie flatly declared that "Nell must be a descendant
of the Witch of Endor."

The company managed to make several scenes that day without further
disaster. Although in taking a close-up of the charging Indian chief
one of the camera men was knocked down by the rearing pony the chief
rode, and a perfectly good two hundred dollar camera was smashed beyond
hope of repair.

"It's begun," said Helen, ruefully. "You see!"

"If you have brought a hoodoo into this outfit, woe be it to you!" cried
Ruth.

"It is not me," proclaimed her chum. "But I tell you _something_ is
going to happen."

They worked so late that it was night before the company took the trail
for Clearwater Station. There was no moon, and the stars were veiled by
a haze that perhaps foreboded a storm.

This coming storm probably was what caused the excitement in a horse
herd that they passed when half way to the railroad line. Or it might
have been because the motor-cars, of which there were four, were strange
to the half-wild horses that the bunch became frightened.

"There's something doing with them critters, boys!" William, who was
riding ahead, called back to the other pony riders, who were rear guard
to the automobiles. "Keep yer eyes peeled!"

His advice was scarcely necessary. The thunder of horse-hoofs on the
turf was not to be mistaken. Through the darkness the stampeding animals
swept down upon the party.

"Git, you fellers!" yelled another rider. "And keep a-goin'! Jest split
the wind for the station!"

The horsemen swept past the jouncing motor-cars. Some of the women in
the cars screamed. Helen cried:

"What did I tell you!"

"Don't--_dare_--tell us anything more!" jerked out Jennie.

Through the murk the girls saw the heads and flaunted manes of the
coming horses. Just what harm they might do to the motor-cars, which
could not be driven rapidly on this rough trail, Ruth and her two chums
did not know. But the threat of the wild ponies' approach was not to be
ignored.

CHAPTER XVI

NEWS AND A THREAT

A stampede of mad cattle is like the charge of a blind and insane
monster. River, nor ravine, nor any other obstruction can halt the mad
rush of the horned beasts. They pile right into it, and only if it is
too steep or too high do they split and go around.

A stampede of horses is different in that the equine brain appreciates
danger more clearly than that of the sullen steer. Behind a cattle
stampede is often left an aftermath of dead and crippled beasts. But
horses are more canny. A wild horse seldom breaks a leg or suffers other
injury. It is not often that the picked skeleton of a horse is found in
the hills.

This herd belonging to the Hubbell ranch charged through the night
directly across the trail along which the moving picture company was
riding. Those on horseback could probably escape; but the motor-cars
could not be driven very rapidly over the rough road.

The girls screamed as the cars bumped and jounced. Out of the darkness
appeared the up-reared heads and tossing manes of the ponies. There were
possibly three hundred in the herd, and they ran _en masse,_ snorting
and neighing, mad with that fear of the unknown which is always at the
root of every stampede.

The automobile in which Ruth Fielding and her two friends, Helen and
Jennie, were seated was the last of the string. It seemed as though it
could not possibly escape the stampede of half-wild ponies, even if the
other cars did.

"Get down in the car, girls!" shouted Ruth, suiting her action to her
word. "Don't try to jump or stand up. Stoop!"

There was good reason for her command. The plunging horses seemed almost
upon the car. Indeed one leader--a big black stallion,--snorting and
blowing, jumped over the rear of the car, clearing it completely, and
bounded away upon the other side of the trail.

He was ahead of the main stampede, however. All that found the motor-car
in the path could not perform his feat. Some would be sure to plunge
into the car where Ruth and Helen and Jennie crouched.

Suddenly there rode into view, coming from the head of the string of
cars, a wild rider, plying whip and heel to maddened pinto pony.

"Wonota! Go back! You'll be killed!" shrieked Ruth. And then she added:
"The picture will be ruined if you are hurt."

Even had the Indian girl heard Ruth's cry she would have given it small
attention. Wonota was less fearful of the charging ponies than were the
punchers and professional riders working for Mr. Hammond.

At least, she was the first to visualize the danger threatening the
girls in the motor-car, and she did not wait to be told what to do. Up
ahead the men were shouting and telling each other that Miss Fielding
was in danger. But Wonota went at the charging horses without question.

She forced her snorting pinto directly between the motor-car and the
stampede. She lashed the foremost horses across their faces with her
quirt. She wheeled her mount and kept on beside the motor-car as its
driver tried to speed up along the trail.

The mad herd seemed intent on keeping with the motor-train. Wonota gave
the pinto his head and lent her entire attention to striking at the
first horses in the stampede. Her quirt brought squeals of pain from
more than one of the charging animals.

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