into the baggage car. The conductor and
porter helped the girls aboard, and they found their sections.

Ruth was determined that Wonota should not get out of her sight again,
and the Indian girl was to occupy a berth in the stateroom. Totantora was
to have had the berth; but when he saw it made up and noted the cramped
and narrow quarters offered him, he shook his head decidedly. He spent
the night in the porter's little room at the end of the car, and the
porter, when he found out Totantora was an Indian chief, did not dare
object for fear of being scalped!

The party reached Hammond the following afternoon. Here they alighted
instead of at Redwood, the more popular station of those wishing to reach
the Thousand Islands by way of the electric road to Alexandria Bay. Ruth
and her party were going direct to Chippewa Bay, for it was upon some of
the more northern of the fourteen hundred or more isles that constitute
the "Thousand Islands" that Mr. Hammond had arranged for the film
company's activities at this time.

A big touring car was waiting for the party, for one of the telegrams
Ruth had caused to be sent the evening before was to Mr. Hammond, and
they were glad to leave the Pullman and get into the open air. Totantora,
even, desired to walk to Chippewa Bay, for he was tired of the white
man's means of locomotion. Ruth and Wonota would not hear to this.

"I guess we have eluded Bilby," said the girl of the Red Mill; "but I
shall not feel that Wonota is safe, Totantora, unless you are near her at
all times. You must keep watch of your daughter. She is a valuable
possession."

For once Totantora smiled--although it was grimly.

"A squaw did not use to be counted for much in my nation," he said. "But
Wonota is not like the old squaws."

"Wonota is quite an up-to-date young woman, let me tell you, Mr
Totantora," Helen told him briskly.

The party remained over night at a small hotel at Chippewa Bay; but in
the morning Ruth and her companions entered a motor launch and were
transported to an island where the film producing company had been
established in several bungalows which Mr. Hammond had rented for the
time of their stay.

The water between the small islands was as calm as a mill pond; but the
party caught glimpses from the launch of the breadth of the St. Lawrence,
its Canadian shore being merely a misty blue line that morning. The rocky
and wooded islands were extremely beautiful and as romantic in appe