Wonota scarcely glanced in the direction of the distant moving picture camp, and she said composedly:
“It is Chief Totantora. He comes for me.”
The Indian in the canoe caused the craft to tear through the water. No such paddling had the two white girls ever seen before. Not a motion was lost on the part of Chief Totantora. Every stroke of his paddle drove the craft on with a speed to make anybody marvel.
“Something has happened!” gasped Ruth, standing up.
“He comes for me,” repeated Wonota, still calmly.
“What for?” queried Helen, quite as much disturbed now as her chum.
Before the Indian girl could have answered—had she intended to explain—the canoe came close in to the bank of the island, was swerved dexterously, and Totantora leaped ashore—a feat not at all easy to perform without overturning the canoe. It scarcely rocked.
He stooped and held it from scraping against the rock, and shot up at his daughter several brief sentences in their own tongue. He paid no attention to Ruth, even, although she stepped forward and asked what his errand was.
“I must go, Miss Ruth,” said Wonota quickly. “Mr. Hammond has sent him. It was arranged before.”
“What was arranged?” demanded Ruth, with some sharpness.