CHAPTER III
IN THE RING
"What do you know about that Indian girl?" demanded Jennie Stoneexcitedly. "She was just as cool as a cucumber. Think of her shootingthat bull just in the nick of time and saving our Ruth!"
"It does seem," remarked Mercy Curtis in her sharp way, "that RuthieFielding cannot venture abroad without getting into trouble."
"And getting out of it, I thank you," rejoined Helen, somewhat offendedby Mercy's remark.
"Certainly I have not been killed yet," was Ruth's mild observation,pinching Helen's arm to warn her that she was not to quarrel with therather caustic lame girl. Mercy's affliction, which still somewhattroubled her, had never improved her naturally crabbed disposition, andfew of her girl friends had Ruth's patience with her.
"I don't know that I feel much like seeing cowboys rope steers and allthat after seeing that horrid black bull charge our Ruthie," complainedHelen. "Shall we really go to the show?"
"Why! Ruth just told that girl we would," said Jennie.
"I wouldn't miss seeing that Wonota shoot for anything," Ruth declared.
"But there is nobody here to watch the automobile now," went on Helen,who was more nervous than her chum.
"Yes," Jennie remarked. "Here comes 'Silas Simpkins, the straw-chewingrube,'" and she giggled.
The farmer was at hand, puffing and blowing. He assured them that "thatcritter" was tightly housed and would do no more harm.
"Hope none o' you warn't hurt," he added. "By jinks! that bull is jestas much excited by this here Wild West Show as I be. Did you pay me foryour ortymobile, young ladies?"
"I most certainly did," said Ruth. "Your bull did not drive all memoryaway."
"All right. All right," said the farmer hastily. "I thought you did, butI wasn't positive you'd remember it."
With which frank confession he turned away to meet another motor-carparty that was attempting to park their machine on his land.
The four girls got out into the dusty road and marched to the ticketwagon that was gaily painted with the sign of "Dakota Joe's Wild Westand Frontier Round-Up."
"This is my treat," declared Ruth, going ahead to the ticket window withthe crowd. "I certainly should pay for all this excitement I have gotyou girls into."
"Go as far as you like," said Jennie. "But to tell the truth, I thinkthe owner of the black bull should be taxed for this treat."
Dakota Joe's show was apparently very popular, for people were coming toit not only from Longhaven and Cheslow, but from many other towns andhamlets. This afternoon performance attracted many women and children,and when the four young women from Cheslow got into their reserved seatsthey found that they were right in the midst of a lot of little folks.
The big ring, separated from the plank seats by a board fence put up insections, offered a large enough tanbark-covered course to enable steersto be roped, bucking broncos exhibited, Indian riding races, and variousother events dear to the heart of the Wild West Show fans. And theprogram of Dakota Joe's show was much like that of similar exhibitions.He had some "real cowboys" and "sure-enough Indians," as well asemployees who were not thus advertised. The steers turned loose for thecowboys to "bulldog" were rather tame animals, for they were used to theemployment. The "bronco busters" rode trick horses so well trained thatthey really acted better than their masters. Some of the roping andriding--especially by the Indians--was really good.
And then came a number on the program that the four girls from Cheslowhad impatiently awaited. The announcer (Dakota Joe himself, on horsebackand wearing hair to his shoulders _a la_ Buffalo Bill) rode into thecenter of the ring and held up a gauntleted hand for attention.
"We now offer you, ladies and gentlemen, an exhibition in rifle shootingsecond to none on any program of any show in America to-day. The men ofthe old West were most wonderful shots with rifle or six-gun. To-day thenew West produces a rifle shot that equals Wild Bill Hickok, ColonelCody himself, or Major Lillie. And to show that the new West, ladies andgentlemen, is right up to the minute in this as in every otherpertic'lar, we offer Wonota, daughter of Chief Totantora, princess ofthe Osage Indians, in a rifle-shooting act that, ladies and gentlemen,is simply marv'lous--simply marv'lous!"
He waved a lordly hand, the band struck up a strident tune, and on a"perfect love of a white pony," as Helen declared, Wonota rode into thering.
She looked just as calm as she had when she had shot the bull whichthreatened Ruth. Nothing seemed to flutter the Indian girl's pulse or tochange her staid expression. Yet the girls noticed that Dakota Joespurred his big horse to the white pony's side, and, unless they weremistaken, the man said something to Wonota in no pleasant manner.
"Look at that fellow!" exclaimed Helen. "Hasn't he an ugly look?"
"I guess he didn't say anything pleasant to her," Ruth rejoined, for shewas a keen observer. "I shouldn't wonder if that girl was far fromhappy."
"I shouldn't want to work for that Dakota Joe," added Mercy Curtis."Look at him!"
Unable to make Wonota's expression of countenance change, the man, whowas evidently angry with the Indian girl, struck the white pony sharplywith his whip. The pony jumped, and some of the spectators, thinking ita part of the program, laughed.
Unexpecting Dakota Joe's act, Wonota was not prepared for her mount'sjump. She was almost thrown from the saddle. But the next instant shehad tightened the pony's rein, hauled it back on its haunches with astrong hand, and wheeled the animal to face Dakota Joe.
What she said to the man certainly Ruth and her friends could notunderstand. It was said in the Osage tongue in any case. But with thewords the Indian girl thrust forward the light rifle which she carried.For a moment its blue muzzle was set full against the white man'schest.
"Oh!" gasped Jennie. And she was not alone in thus giving vent to herexcitement. "Oh!"
"Why doesn't she shoot him?" drawled Mercy Curtis.
"I--I guess It was only in fun," said Helen rather shakingly, as theIndian girl wheeled her mount again and rode away from Dakota Joe.
"I wouldn't want her to be that funny with me," gasped Jennie Stone."She must be a regular wild Indian, after all."
"I am sure, at least, that this Dakota Joe person would have deservedlittle sympathy if she had shot him," declared Mercy, with confidence.
"Dear me," admitted Ruth herself, "I want to meet that girl more thanever now. There must be some mystery regarding her connection with theowner of the show. They certainly are not in accord."
"You've said something!" agreed Jennie, likewise with conviction.
If Wonota had been at all flurried because of her treatment by heremployer, she no longer showed it. Having ridden to the proper spot, shewheeled the white pony again and faced the place where there was a steelshield against which the objects she was to shoot at were thrown.
Dakota Joe rode forward as though to affix the first clay ball to thestring. Then he pulled in his horse, scowled across the ring at Wonota,and beckoned one of the cowboys to approach. This man took up the dutyof affixing the targets for the Indian girl.
"Do you see that?" chuckled Jennie Stone. "He's afraid she might changeher mind and shoot him after all."
"Sh!" cautioned Ruth. "Somebody might hear you. Now look."
The swinging targets were shattered by Wonota as fast as the man couldhook them to the string and set the string to swinging. Then he threwglass balls filled with feathers into the air for the Indian girl toexplode.
It was evident that she was not doing as well as usual, for she missedseveral shots. But this was not because of her own nervousness. Sincethe pony had been cut with Dakota Joe's whip it would not stand still,and its nervousness was plainly the cause of Wonota's misses.
The owner of the show was, however, the last person to admit this. Heshowed more than annoyance as the act progressed.
Perhaps it was the strained relations so evident between the owner ofthe show and Wonota that affected the man attending to the targets, forhe became rather wild. H
e threw a glass ball so far to one side that tohave shot at it would have endangered the spectators, and the Indiangirl dropped the muzzle of her rifle and shook her head. The curvingball came within Dakota Joe's reach.
"Some baseball player, I'll say!" ejaculated Jennie Stone slangily.
For the owner of the show caught the flying ball. He wheeled hisspirited horse, and, holding the ball at arm's length, he spurred downthe field toward the Indian girl.
"Oh!" cried Ruth under her breath. "He is going to throw it at her!"
"The villain!" ejaculated Mercy Curtis, her eyes flashing.
But if that was his intention, Dakota Joe did not fulfill it. The Indiangirl whipped up the muzzle of her rifle and seemed to take deliberateaim at the angry man. Evidently this act was not on the bill!