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."

The grave face of the Indian girl broke into a slow smile. When she did
smile, Ruth thought her very winsome indeed. Now that she had removed
her headdress and wore her black hair in two glossy plaits over her
shoulders, she was even more attractive.

"You are very kind," Wonota said. "But perhaps I should not trouble you
with any of my difficulties."

"If you have troubles," interposed Jennie, "you've come to the right
shop. We all have 'em and a few more won't hurt us a bit. We're just
dying to know why that man treats you so mean."

"He wouldn't treat me that way!" put in Mercy vigorously.

"But you see I--I am quite alone," explained Wonota. "Since Father
Totantora went away I have been without any kin and almost without
friends in our nation."

"That is it," said Ruth. "Begin at the beginning. Tell us how the chief
came to leave you, and how you got mixed up with this Dakota Joe. I have
a very small opinion of that man," added the girl of the Red Mill, "and
I do not think you should remain in his care."

CHAPTER V

INSPIRATION

It was on the verge of evening, and a keen and searching wind was
blowing across the ruffled Lumano, when Helen Cameron's car and its
three occupants came in sight of the old Red Mill. Mercy Curtis had been
dropped at the Cheslow railway station, where she had the "second trick"
as telegraph operator.

For the last few miles of the journey from the Wild West Show there had
been a good-natured, wordy battle between Ruth and Helen as to which of
the twain was to have Jennie Stone for the night.

"Her trunk is at my house," Helen declared. "So now!"

"But her toilet bag is at the farmhouse. And, anyway, I could easily
lend her pajamas."

"She could never get into a suit of yours, you know very well, Ruth
Fielding!" exclaimed Helen.

"I'd get one of Uncle Jabez's long flannel nightgowns for her, then,"
giggled Ruth.

"Look here! I don't seem to be in such great favor with either of you,
after all," interposed the plump girl. "One would think I was a f