he guide flourished a hamlike hand,
holding back the canvas flap.

"Just step in and you'll find her," he said, again chuckling.

Ruth was one not easily alarmed. But the fellow seemed impudent. She
gave him a reproving look and marched into what appeared to be an
office, for there was a desk and a chair in view.

There, to her surprise, was Dakota Joe, the long-haired proprietor of
the Wild West Show! He stood leaning against a post, his arms folded and
smoking a very long and very black cigar. He did not remove his hat as
Ruth entered, but rolled his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the
other and demanded harshly:

"You know this Injun girl I got with the show?"

"Certainly I know her!" Ruth exclaimed without hesitation, "She saved my
life."

"Huh! I heard about that, ma'am. And I don't mean it just that way. I'm
talking about her--drat her! She says she has got a date with you and
your friends between the afternoon and night shows."

"Yes," Ruth said wonderingly. "We are to meet--and talk."

"That's just it, ma'am," said the man, rolling the cigar again in an
offensive way. "That's just it. When you come to talk with that Injun
girl, I want you to steer her proper on one p'int. We're white, you an'
me, and I reckon white folks will stick together when it comes to a game
against reds. Get me?"

"I do not think I do--yet," answered Ruth hesitatingly.

"Why, see here, now," Dakota Joe went on. "It's easy to see you're a
lady--a white lady. I'm a white gent. This Injun wench has got it in for
me. Did you see what she come near doin' to me right out there in the
ring?"

Ruth restrained a strong wish to tell him exactly what she had seen. But
somehow she felt that caution in the handling of this rough man would be
the wiser part.

"I saw that she made a very clever shot in breaking that ball in your
hand, Mr. Dakota Joe," the girl of the Red Mill said.

"Heh? Well, didn't you see she aimed straight at me? Them reds ain't got
no morals. They'd jest as lief shoot a feller they didn't like as not.
We have to keep 'em down all the time. I know. I been handling 'em for
years."

"Well, sir?" asked Ruth impatiently.

"Why, this Wonota--drat her!--is under contract with me. She's a drawin'
card, I will say. But she's been writin' back to the agency where I got
her and making me trouble. She means to leave me flat if she can---and a
good winter season coming on."

"What do you expect me to do about it, Mr.