e chauffeur of Ruth's car slackened his
dangerous pace and yelled:

"It's all over, you fellers! We might have been trod into the ground for
all of you. It takes this Injun gal to turn the trick. I take off my hat
to Wonota."

"I guess we all take off our hats to her!" cried Helen, sitting up
again. "She saved us--that is what she did!"

"Good girl, Wonota!" Ruth exclaimed, as the snorting pinto brought its
rider up beside the motor-car again.

"It was little to do," the Indian girl responded modestly. "After all
you have done for me, Miss Fielding. And I am not afraid of horses."

"Them horses was something to be afraid of--believe me!" ejaculated one
of the men. "The gal's a peach of a rider at that."

Here Helen suddenly demanded to know where Jennie was.

"I do believe she's burrowed right through the bottom of this tonneau!"

"Haven't either!" came in the muffled voice of the fleshy girl, and she
began to rise up from under enveloping robes. "Take your foot off my
arm, Nell. You're trampling me awfully. I thought it was one of those
dreadful horses!"

"Well--I--like--that!" gasped Helen.

"I didn't," Jennie groaned, finally coming to the surface--like a
porpoise, Ruth gigglingly suggested, to breathe! "I was sure one of
those awful creatures was stamping on me. If I haven't suffered _this_
day! Such spots as were not already black and blue, are now properly
bruised. I shall be a sight."

"Poor Heavy!" said Ruth. "You always have the hard part. But, thank
goodness, we escaped in safety!"

"Do let's go to a hotel somewhere and stay a week to recuperate," begged
the fleshy girl, as they rode on toward the railroad town. "One day of
movie making calls for a week of rest--believe me!"

"You and Helen can remain at the car--"

"Not me!" cried Helen Cameron. "I do not wish to be in the picture
again, but I want to see it made."

After they arrived at the special car, where a piping hot supper was
ready for them, the girls forgot the shock of their adventure. Jennie,
however, groaned whenever she moved.

"'Tis too bad that fat girl got so bunged up," observed one of the
punchers to Helen Cameron. "I see she's a-sufferin'."

"Miss Stone's avoirdupois is forever making her trouble," laughed Helen,
rather wickedly.

"Huh?" demanded the man. "Alfy Dupoy? Who's that? Her feller?"

"Oh, dear me, no!" gasped Helen. "_His_ name is Henri Marchand. I shall
have to tell her that."

"Needn't mind," returned t