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.--er--Dakota Joe?" asked Ruth.

"Fenbrook. Fenbrook's my name, ma'am," tardily explained the showman.
"Now, see here. She's nothin' but an ignorant redskin. Yep. She's
daughter of old Totantora, hereditary chief of the Osages. But he's out
of the way and her guardian is the Indian Agent at Three Rivers Station
in Oklahoma where the Osages have their reservation. As I say, this gal
has writ to the agent and told him a pack o' lies about how bad she is
treated. And she ain't treated bad a mite."

"Well, Mr. Fenbrook?" demanded Ruth again.

"Why, see now. This Injun gal thinks well of you. I know what she's told
the other performers. And I see her looking at you. Naturally, being
nothin' but a redskin, she'll look up to a white lady like you. You tell
her she's mighty well off here, all things considered--will you? Just