her folks had was time, and they'd got to spend it somehow. They'd
better be grinding corn by hand than making war on their neighbors or
the whites, like they used to. She ain't so slow."

Ruth quite agreed with this. The Osage maiden was more than ordinarily
intelligent, and she began to take a deep interest in the development
of the story that Ruth was making for screen use.

"Am I to be that girl?" she asked doubtfully. "How can I play that I am
in love when I have never seen a man I cared for--in that way?"

"Can't you imagine admiring a nice young man?" asked Ruth in return.

"Not a white man like this one in your story," Wonota said soberly. "It
should be that he did more for himself--that he was more of a--a brave.
We Indians do not expect our men to be saved from disgrace by women.
Squaws are not counted of great value among the possessions of a chief."

"So you could not really respect such a man as I describe here if he
allowed a girl to help him?" Ruth asked reflectively, for Wonota's
criticism was giving her some thought.

"He should not be such a man--to need the help of a squaw," declared the
Indian maid confidently. "But, of course, it does not matter if only
palefaces are to see the picture."

But Ruth could not get the thought out of her mind. It might be that the
Indian girl had suggested a real fault in the play she was making, and
she took Mr. Hammond into her confidence about it when she sent him the
first draft of the story. Her whole idea of the principal male character