“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.”