"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:
"You know this Injun girl I got with the show?"
"Certainly I know her!" Ruth exclaimed without hesitation, "She saved my life."