ssibilities in the little incident Aunt Alvirah had told
about her ancestor who had crossed the Western plains in the early
emigrant days. She meant to open her story with a similar incident, as
a prologue to the actual play.

Ruth made her heroine (the part she wished to fit to Wonota, the Osage
Indian girl) repay in part the debt her family owed the white physician
by saving a descendant of the physician from peril in the Indian
country. This young man, the hero, is attracted by the Indian maid who
has saved his life; but he is under the influence of a New York girl,
one of the tourist party, to whom he is tentatively engaged.

But the New York girl deserts the hero when he gets into difficulty in
New York. He is accused of a crime that may send him to the penitentiary
for a long term and there seems no way to disprove the crime. Word of
his peril comes to the Indian maid in her Western home. She knows and
suspects the honesty of the timber men with whom the hero is connected
in business. She discovers these villains are the guilty ones, and she
travels to New York to testify for him and to clear him of the charge.
The end of the story, as well as the beginning, was to be filmed in the
wilds.

With the incidents of her plot gradually taking form in her mind and
being jotted down on paper, Ruth's hours began to be very full. She was
with Wonota as much as possible, and the Indian girl began to show an
almost doglike devotion to the girl of the Red Mill.

"That is not to be wondered at, of course," Jennie Stone said, as she
was about to return to her New York home. "Everybody falls for our Ruth.
It's a wonder to me that she has not been elected to the presidency."

"Wait till we women get the vote," declared Helen. "Then we'll send Ruth
to the chair."

"Goodness!" ejaculated Jennie. "That sounds terrible, Nell! One might
think you mean the electric chair."

"Is there much difference, after all, between that and the presidential
chair?" Helen demanded, chuckling. "The way some people talk about a
president!"

"We are a loose-talking people," Ruth interrupted gravely, "and I think
you girls talk almost as irresponsibly as anybody I ever heard."

"List to the stern and uncompromising Ruthie," scoffed Jennie. "I am
glad I am going back to Aunt Kate. She is a spinster, I admit; but she
isn't anywhere near as old-maid-like as Ruth Fielding."

"I'll tell Tom about that," said Tom's sister wickedly.

"Spinsters are