“Bully, boys!” the director shouted.  “Keep at it!” Then through the megaphone:  “Eyes on the camera, Wonota!  Your lover is in the water—­you must save him!  Nobody else can reach him There!  He’s going down again!  Bend forward—­look at him—­at the camera!  That’s it!  When he appears again that log is going to hit him if you do not swerve the canoe in between the log and him—­There!  With your paddle!  Shoot the canoe in now!”

He swerved the megaphone to the men waiting on the bank:  “Look out for Miss Fielding, some of you fellows.  The rest of you stand ready to grab Wonota when that canoe goes over.”

Again to the Indian girl:  “Now, Wonota!  Pitch the paddle away.  Lean over—­grab at his head.  There it is!”

The Indian girl did as instructed, leaning so far that the canoe tipped.  Mr. Hooley raised his hand.  He snapped his fingers.  “There!  Enough!” he shouted, and the cameras stopped as the canoe canted the Indian girl headfirst into the stream.  The rest of that scene would be taken in quiet water.

While the man waded in to help Wonota, Ruth reached the bank and sprang off her log before she was butted off.  Helen and Jennie ran to her, and such a hullabaloo as there was for a few minutes!

Jim Hooley came striding down to the three Eastern girls, flushed and with scowling brow.

“I want to know who did that?” he shouted.  “No thanks to anybody but my camera men that the whole scene wasn’t a fizzle.  And what would Mr. Hammond have said?  Who were those men, Miss Fielding?”

“What men?” asked Ruth in wonder.

“Up there on the other bank?  Those that knocked the chocks out from under that heap of logs?  You don’t suppose that avalanche of timber started all by itself?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about, Mr. Hooley,” declared Ruth Fielding.

“And surely,” Helen added quickly, “you do not suppose that it was her fault?  She might have been killed.”

“I got a glimpse of a man dodging out of the way just as that pile of logs started.  I saw the flash of the sun on his ax,” and the director was very much in earnest.

It was Jennie who put into words the thought that had come both to Ruth and Helen as well: 

“Where is that awful Dakota Joe?  He was here last night.  He has tried to harm our Ruthie before.  I do believe he did it!”

“Who’s that?” demanded the director.  “The man who had Wonota in his show?”

“Yes, Mr. Hooley.  He was here last night.  I spoke with him up in the bunk-house while you were telling the boys about this scene,” Ruth said gravely.

“The unhung villain!” exclaimed the director.  “He tried to ruin our shot.”

Jennie stared at him with open mouth as well as eyes.

“Well!” she gasped after a minute.  “That is what you might call being wrapped up in one’s business, sure enough!  Ruined your shot, indeed!  How about ruining a perfectly good girl named Ruth Fielding?”