"No, ma'am!" declared the broad-hatted man. "She'll be as chipper as a
blue-jay in a minute. That was a near shot, Wonota. For an Injun you're
some shot, I'll tell the world."

An expression of disdain passed over the Indian girl's face. She looked
away from the man and Ruth's glance caught her attention.

"I thank you very much, Miss--Miss--"

"I am called Wonota in the Osage tongue," interposed the Indian maiden
composedly enough.

"She's Dakota Joe's Injun sharpshooter," put in the man at the fence.
"And she ain't no business out here in her play-actin' costume--or with
her gun loaded that-a-way. Aginst the law. That gun she uses is for
shootin' glass balls and clay pigeons in the show."

"Well, Miss Wonota," said Ruth, trying to ignore the officious man who
evidently annoyed the Indian maiden, "I am very thankful you did have
your rifle with you at this particular juncture." She approached the
fence and reached over it to clasp the Indian girl's hand warmly.

"We are going in to see you shoot at the glass balls, for I see the show
is about to start. But afterward, Wonota, can't we see you again?"

The Indian girl's expression betrayed some faint surprise. But she bowed
gravely.

"If the white ladies desire," she said. "I must appear now in the tent.
The boss is strict."