"What did you mean, Wonota?" asked the girl of the Red Mill. "Who was it
ran over me? I know Mr. Hooley will try to find him, but--"

"That bad, _bad_ Dakota Joe!" interrupted the Indian girl with
vehemence, her eyes flashing and the color deeping in her bronze cheeks.
"When your friend told us he was in this city, I feared."

"Why, Wonota!" cried Ruth, sitting up in surprise, "do you mean to say
that Dakota Joe Fenbrook was driving that car?"

"No. He cannot drive a car. But it was one of his men--Yes."

"I can scarcely believe it. He deliberately ran me down?"

"I saw Dakota Joe in the back of the car just as it shot down toward
you, Miss Fielding. He is a bad, bad man! He was leaning forward urging
that driver on. I know he was."

"Why, it seems terrible!" Ruth sighed. "Yes, that feels good on my
ankle, Wonota. I do not believe it is really sprained. Oh, but it hurt
at first! Wrenched, I suppose."

Jim Hooley, the director, had telephoned for Mr. Hammond, and the
producer hurried to the hotel. He insisted on bringing a surgeon with
him. But by the time of their arrival Ruth felt much easier, and after
the medical man had pronounced no real harm done to the ankle, Ruth
dressed again, insisting that a second attempt be made to shoot the
scene while the sun remained high enough.