"It must be that Wonota has sent him for me," explained Ruth, seeing no
other possible reason for this call. Refusing to let even Helen go with
her, she followed the man up the aisle and down a narrow flight of steps
to the ground.

"What is the matter with her? What does she want me for?" Ruth asked him
when she could get within earshot and away from the audience.

"Her?"

"Yes. You come from Wonota, don't you?"

The man chuckled, but still kept on. "You'll see her in a minute. Right
this way, Miss," he said.

They came to a canvas-enclosed place with a flap pinned back as though
it were the entrance to a tent. The 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: