CHAPTER II
A PERFECT SHOT
One may endure dangers of divers kinds (and Ruth Fielding had done so byland and sea) and be struck down unhappily by an apparently ordinaryperil. The threat of that black bull's charge was as poignant asanything that had heretofore happened to the girl of the Red Mill.
After that first outcry, Ruth did not raise her voice at all. She tuggedat the fouled handle of the automobile door, looking back over hershoulder at the forefront of the bull. He bellowed, and the very soundseemed to weaken her knees. Had she not been clinging to that handle shemust have dropped to the earth.
And then, Crack! It was unmistakably a rifle shot.
The bull plowed up several yards of sod, swerved, shook his great head,bellowing again, and then started off at a tangent across the field withthe farmer, brandishing a stick, close on his heels.
Saved, Ruth Fielding did sink to the earth now, and when the other girlsran clamorously around the motor-car she was scarcely possessed of hersenses. Truly, however, she had been through too many exciting events tobe long overcome by this one.
Many queer experiences and perilous adventures had come into RuthFielding's life since the time when, as an orphan of twelve years, shehad come to the Red Mill, just outside the town of Cheslow, to live withher Great Uncle Jabez and his queer little old housekeeper, AuntAlvirah.
The miller was not the man generously to offer Ruth the advantages shecraved. Had it not been for her dearest friend, Helen Cameron, at firstRuth would not have been dressed well enough to enter the local school.But if Jabez Potter was a miser, he was a just man after his fashion.Ruth saved him a considerable sum of money during the first few monthsof her sojourn at the Red Mill, and in payment for this Uncle Jabezallowed her to accompany Helen Cameron to that famous boarding school,Briarwood Hall.
While at school at Briarwood, and during the vacations betweensemesters, Ruth Fielding's career actually began, as the volumesfollowing "Ruth Fielding of the Red Mill" show. The girl had numerousadventures at Briarwood Hall, at Snow Camp, at Lighthouse Point, atSilver Ranch, on Cliff Island, at Sunrise Farm, among the gypsies, inmoving pictures, down in Dixie, at college, in the saddle, in the RedCross in France, at the war front, and when homeward bound. The volumejust previous to this present story related Ruth's adventures "DownEast," where she went with Helen and Tom Cameron, as well as JennieStone, Jennie's fiance, Henri Marchand, and her Aunt Kate, who was theirchaperon.
The girl of the Red Mill had long before the time of the presentnarrative proved her talent as a scenario writer, and working for Mr.Hammond, president of the Alectrion Film Corporation, had already madeseveral very successful pictures. It seemed that her work in life was tobe connected with the silver sheet.
Even Uncle Jabez had acknowledged Ruth's ability as a scenario writer,and was immensely proud of her work when he learned how much money shewas making out of the pictures. For the old miller judged everything bya monetary standard.
Aunt Alvirah was, of course, very proud of her "pretty" as she calledRuth Fielding. Indeed, all Ruth's friends considered her success inpicture-making as only going to show just how smart Ruth Fielding was.But the girl of the Red Mill was far too sensible to have her headturned by such praise. Even Tom Cameron's pride in her pictures onlymade the girl glad that she succeeded in delighting him.
For Ruth and Tom were closer friends now than ever before--and for yearsthey had been "chummy." The adventures which had thrown them so muchtogether in France while Tom was a captain in the American ExpeditionaryForces and Ruth was working with the American Red Cross, had weldedtheir confidence in and liking for each other until it seemed thatnothing but their youth and Tom's duties in the army kept them fromannouncing their engagement.
"Do finish the war quickly, Tom," she had said to him whimsically, notlong before Tom had gone back to France. "I do not feel as though Icould return to college, or write another scenario, or do another singlesolitary thing until peace is declared."
"And _then_?" Tom had asked significantly, and Ruth had given him anunderstanding smile.
The uncertainty of that time--the whole nation waited and listenedbreathlessly for news from abroad--seemed to Ruth more than she couldbear. She had entered upon this pleasure jaunt to the Wild West Showwith the other girls because she knew that anything to take their mindsoff the more serious thoughts of the war was a good thing.
Now, as she felt herself in peril of being gored by that black bull atiny thought flashed into her mind:
"What terrible peril may be facing Tom Cameron at this identicalmoment?"
When the bull was gone, wounded by that unexpected rifle shot, and herthree chums gathered about her, this thought of Tom's danger was stilluppermost in Ruth's mind.
"Dear me, how silly of me!" she murmured. "There are lots worse thingshappening every moment over there than being gored by a bull."
"What an idea!" ejaculated Helen. "Are you crazy? What has that to dowith you being pitched over that fence, for instance?"
She glanced at the fence which divided the field in which theautomobiles stood from that where the two great tents of the Wild WestShow were pitched. A broad-hatted man was standing at the bars. Hedrawled:
"Gal ain't hurt none, is she? That was a close shave--closer, a pile,than I'd want to have myself. Some savage critter, that bull. And ifDakota Joe's gal wasn't a crack shot that young lady would sure beenthrowed higher than Haman."
Ruth had now struggled to her feet with the aid of Jenny and Mercy.
"Do find out who it was shot the bull!" she cried.
Jennie, although still white-faced, grinned broadly again. "_Now_ who isguilty of the most atrocious slang? 'Shot the bull,' indeed!"
"Thar she is," answered the broad-hatted man, pointing to a figureapproaching the fence. Helen fairly gasped at sight of her.
"Right out of a Remington black-and-white," she shrilled in RuthFielding's ear.
The sight actually jolted Ruth's mind away from the fright which hadoverwhelmed it. She stared at the person indicated with growing interestas well as appreciation of the picturesque figure she made. She was anIndian girl in the gala costume of her tribe, feather head-dress andall. Or, perhaps, one would better say she was dressed as the white manexpects an Indian to dress when on exhibition.
But aside from her dress, which was most attractive, the girl herselfheld Ruth's keen interest. Despite her high cheekbones and the duskycopper color of her skin, this strange girl's features were handsome.There was pride expressed in them--pride and firmness and, withal, acertain sadness that added not a little to the charm of the Indiangirl's visage.
"What a strange person!" murmured Helen Cameron.
"She is pretty," announced the assured Mercy Curtis, who always held herown opinion to be right on any subject. "One brunette never does likeanother," and she made a little face at Helen.
"Listen!" commanded Jennie Stone. "What does she say?"
The Indian girl spoke again, and this time they all heard her.
"Is the white lady injured, Conlon?"
"No, ma'am!" declared the broad-hatted man. "She'll be as chipper as ablue-jay in a minute. That was a near shot, Wonota. For an Injun you'resome shot, I'll tell the world."
An expression of disdain passed over the Indian girl's face. She lookedaway from the man and Ruth's glance caught her attention.
"I thank you very much, Miss--Miss--"
"I am called Wonota in the Osage tongue," interposed the Indian maidencomposedly enough.
"She's Dakota Joe's Injun sharpshooter," put in the man at the fence."And she ain't no business out here in her play-actin' costume--or withher gun loaded that-a-way. Aginst the law. That gun she uses is forshootin' glass balls and clay pigeons in the show."
"Well, Miss Wonota," said Ruth, trying to ignore the officious man whoevidently annoyed the Indian maiden, "I am very thankful you did haveyour rifle with you at this particular juncture." She approached thefence and reached over it to clasp the I
ndian girl's hand warmly.
"We are going in to see you shoot at the glass balls, for I see the showis about to start. But afterward, Wonota, can't we see you again?"
The Indian girl's expression betrayed some faint surprise. But she bowedgravely.
"If the white ladies desire," she said. "I must appear now in the tent.The boss is strict."
"You bet he is," added the broad-hatted man, who seemed offensivelydetermined to push himself forward.
"After the show, then," said Ruth promptly to the girl. "I will tell youthen just how much obliged to you I am," and she smiled in a mostfriendly fashion.
Wonota's smile was faint, but her black eyes seemed suddenly to sparkle.The man at the fence looked suspiciously from the white girls to theIndian maid, but he made no further comment as Wonota hastened away.
Ruth Fielding in the Great Northwest; Or, The Indian Girl Star of the Movies Page 2