But aside from her dress, which was most attractive, the girl herself held Ruth’s keen interest.  Despite her high cheekbones and the dusky copper color of her skin, this strange girl’s features were handsome.  There was pride expressed in them—­pride and firmness and, withal, a certain sadness that added not a little to the charm of the Indian girl’s visage.

“What a strange person!” murmured Helen Cameron.

“She is pretty,” announced the assured Mercy Curtis, who always held her own opinion to be right on any subject.  “One brunette never does like another,” and she made a little face at Helen.

“Listen!” commanded Jennie Stone.  “What does she say?”

The Indian girl spoke again, and this time they all heard her.

“Is the white lady injured, Conlon?”

“No, ma’am!” declared the broad-hatted man.  “She’ll be as chipper as a blue-jay in a minute.  That was a near shot, Wonota.  For an Injun you’re some shot, I’ll tell the world.”

An expression of disdain passed over the Indian girl’s face.  She looked away from the man and Ruth’s glance caught her attention.

“I thank you very much, Miss—­Miss—­”

“I am called Wonota in the Osage tongue,” interposed the Indian maiden composedly enough.

“She’s Dakota Joe’s Injun sharpshooter,” put in the man at the fence.  “And she ain’t no business out here in her play-actin’ costume—­or with her gun loaded that-a-way.  Aginst the law.  That gun she uses is for shootin’ glass balls and clay pigeons in the show.”

“Well, Miss Wonota,” said Ruth, trying to ignore the officious man who evidently annoyed the Indian maiden, “I am very thankful you did have your rifle with you at this particular juncture.”  She approached the fence and reached over it to clasp the Indian girl’s hand warmly.

“We are going in to see you shoot at the glass balls, for I see the show is about to start.  But afterward, Wonota, can’t we see you again?”

The Indian girl’s expression betrayed some faint surprise.  But she bowed gravely.

“If the white ladies desire,” she said.  “I must appear now in the tent.  The boss is strict.”

“You bet he is,” added the broad-hatted man, who seemed offensively determined to push himself forward.

“After the show, then,” said Ruth promptly to the girl.  “I will tell you then just how much obliged to you I am,” and she smiled in a most friendly fashion.

Wonota’s smile was faint, but her black eyes seemed suddenly to sparkle.  The man at the fence looked suspiciously from the white girls to the Indian maid, but he made no further comment as Wonota hastened away.

CHAPTER III

IN THE RING

“What do you know about that Indian girl?” demanded Jennie Stone excitedly.  “She was just as cool as a cucumber.  Think of her shooting that bull just in the nick of time and saving our Ruth!”