anging tree on Ruth's side of the stream,
any of that peril which suddenly threatened the white girl. Wonota was
as unconscious of what imperiled Ruth as the latter was at first
unknowing of the coming catastrophe.

It was Jim Hooley whom the incident startled and alarmed more than
anybody else. He committed an unpardonable sin--unpardonable for a
director! He forgot, when everything was ready, to order the starting of
the camera. Instead he put his megaphone to his lips and shouted across
to Ruth Fielding--who was not supposed to be in the picture at all:

"Jump, Miss Fielding! Quick! Jump into the river!"

And Ruth did not hear him, loudly as his voice boomed across the flood!
She was deafened by the thunder of the waters and the crashing of the
logs in mid-flood. Her eyes, now that she was sure the foreman was safe
on the other bank, were fixed upon the bow of Wonota's canoe, just
coming into sight behind the ware of foaming water and upreared,
charging timbers.

It was a great sight--a wonderful sight. No real freshet could have been
more awful to behold. Mr. Hooley's feat was a masterstroke!

But behind and above Ruth was a scene of disaster that held those on the
opposite bank speechless--after Hooley's first mighty shout of warning.
At least, all but the camera men were so transfixed by the thing that
was happening above the unconscious Ruth.

Trained to their work, the camera men had been ready to crank their
machines when Hooley grabbed up his megaphone. The boom had burst, the
flood poured down, and the Indian maid's canoe came into the range of
their lenses.

It was the most natural thing in the world that they should begin
cranking--and this they did! Alone among all those on the far bank of
the stream, the camera men were blind to Ruth's danger.

"She'll be killed!" shrieked Jennie Stone, while Helen Cameron ran to
the water's edge, stretching forth her arms to Ruth as though she would
seize her from across the stream.

The next moment the water flooded up around Helen's ankles. The stream
was rising, and had Jennie not dragged her back, Helen would have been
knee-deep in the water--perhaps have been injured herself by one of the
flying logs.

Ruth was out of reach of the logs in the stream, although they charged
down with mighty clamor, their ends at times shooting a dozen feet into
the air, the bark stripping in ragged lengths, displaying angry gashes
along their flanks. It was from that great