Ruth Fielding in the Great Northwest; Or, The Indian Girl Star of the Movies Read online

  CHAPTER IX

  THE PLOT DEVELOPS

  Ruth had insisted upon Wonota's remaining at the Red Mill from the hourshe had ridden there for protection. Not that they believed Fenbrookwould actually harm the Indian girl after he had cooled down. But it wasbetter that she should be in Ruth's care as long as she was to worksomewhat under the latter's tutelage.

  Besides, it gave the picture writer a chance to study her subject. Itwould be too much to expect that Wonota could play a difficult part. Shehad had no experience in acting. Ruth knew that she must fit a part toWonota, not the girl to a part. In other words, the Indian girl wasmerely a type for screen exploitation, and the picture Ruth wrote mustbe fitted to her capabilities.

  Grasping, like any talented writer does, at any straw of novelty, Ruthhad seen possibilities in the little incident Aunt Alvirah had toldabout her ancestor who had crossed the Western plains in the earlyemigrant days. She meant to open her story with a similar incident, asa prologue to the actual play.

  Ruth made her heroine (the part she wished to fit to Wonota, the OsageIndian girl) repay in part the debt her family owed the white physicianby saving a descendant of the physician from peril in the Indiancountry. This young man, the hero, is attracted by the Indian maid whohas saved his life; but he is under the influence of a New York girl,one of the tourist party, to whom he is tentatively engaged.

  But the New York girl deserts the hero when he gets into difficulty inNew York. He is accused of a crime that may send him to the penitentiaryfor a long term and there seems no way to disprove the crime. Word ofhis peril comes to the Indian maid in her Western home. She knows andsuspects the honesty of the timber men with whom the hero is connectedin business. She discovers these villains are the guilty ones, and shetravels to New York to testify for him and to clear him of the charge.The end of the story, as well as the beginning, was to be filmed in thewilds.

  With the incidents of her plot gradually taking form in her mind andbeing jotted down on paper, Ruth's hours began to be very full. She waswith Wonota as much as possible, and the Indian girl began to show analmost doglike devotion to the girl of the Red Mill.

  "That is not to be wondered at, of course," Jennie Stone said, as shewas about to return to her New York home. "Everybody falls for our Ruth.It's a wonder to me that she has not been elected to the presidency."

  "Wait till we women get the vote," declared Helen. "Then we'll send Ruthto the chair."

  "Goodness!" ejaculated Jennie. "That sounds terrible, Nell! One mightthink you mean the electric chair."

  "Is there much difference, after all, between that and the presidentialchair?" Helen demanded, chuckling. "The way some people talk about apresident!"

  "We are a loose-talking people," Ruth interrupted gravely, "and I thinkyou girls talk almost as irresponsibly as anybody I ever heard."

  "List to the stern and uncompromising Ruthie," scoffed Jennie. "I amglad I am going back to Aunt Kate. She is a spinster, I admit; but sheisn't anywhere near as old-maid-like as Ruth Fielding."

  "I'll tell Tom about that," said Tom's sister wickedly.

  "Spinsters are the balance-wheel of the universe machinery," declaredRuth, laughing. "I always have admired them. But, joking aside, at thistime when the whole world should be so grateful and so much in earnestbecause of the end of a terrible war, trivial matters and trivial talksomehow seems to jar."

  "Not so! Not so!" cried Helen vigorously. "We have been holding in andtrying to keep cheerful with the fear at our hearts that some loved onewould suddenly be taken. It was not lightness of heart that made peopledance and act as though rattled-pated during the war. It was an attemptto hide that awful fear in their hearts. See how the people in Cheslowacted as though they were crazy the night of the armistice. And did youread what the papers said about the times in New York? It was only anatural outbreak."

  "Well," remarked. Ruth, shrugging her shoulders, "you certainly have gotoff the subject of old maids--bless 'em! Give my love to your Aunt Kate,Jennie, and when we come to the city to take the shots for this picture,I'll surely see her."

  "Hi!" cried Miss Stone energetically. "I guess you will! You'll comeright to the house and stay with us during that time!"

  "Oh, no. I shall have Wonota with me. We will stay at a hotel. Our hoursare always so uncertain when we shoot a picture that I could notundertake to be at any private house."

  There was some discussion over this. Ruth did not intend to let Wonotaout of her sight much while the picture was being made. Nor did shepropose to let the script of the picture out of her sight until copiescould be made of it, and the continuity man had made his version for thedirector. Ruth was not going to run the risk of losing another scenario,as she had once while Down East.

  Ruth put in two weeks' hard work on the new story. As she laughinglysaid, she ate, slept, and talked movies all the time. Wonota had toamuse herself; but that did not seem hard for the Indian girl to do. Shewas naturally of a very quiet disposition. She sat by Aunt Alvirah forhours doing beadwork while the old woman darned or knitted.

  "You wouldn't ever suspect she was a Red Indian unless you looked ather," Aunt Alvirah confessed to the rest of the family. "She's a verynice girl."

  As for Wonota, she said:

  "I used to sit beside my grandmother and work like this. Yes, ChiefTotantora taught me to shoot and paddle a canoe, and to do many otherthings out-of-doors. But my grandmother was the head woman of our tribe,and her beadwork and dyed porcupine-quill work was the finest you eversaw, Ruth Fielding. I was sorry to leave my war-bag with Dakota Joe. Ithad in it many keepsakes my grandmother gave me before she passed tothe Land of the Spirits."

  A demand had been made upon the proprietor of the Wild West Show forWonota's possessions, but the man had refused to give them up. The girlhad not brought away with her even the rifle she had used sosuccessfully in the show. But her pony, West Wind, was stabled in theRed Mill barn. Indeed, Uncle Jabez had begun to hint that the animal was"eating its head off." The miller could not help showing what AuntAlvirah called "his stingy streak" in spite of the fact that he trulywas interested in the Indian maid and liked her.

  "That redskin gal," he confessed in private to Ruth, "is a pretty shrewdand sensible gal. She got to telling me the other day how her folksground grist in a stone pan, or the like, using a hard-wood club topound it with. Right slow process of makin' flour or meal, I do allow.

  "But what do you think she said when I put that up to her--about it'sbeing a slow job?" and the miller chuckled. "Why, she told me that allher folks had was time, and they'd got to spend it somehow. They'dbetter be grinding corn by hand than making war on their neighbors orthe whites, like they used to. She ain't so slow."

  Ruth quite agreed with this. The Osage maiden was more than ordinarilyintelligent, and she began to take a deep interest in the developmentof the story that Ruth was making for screen use.

  "Am I to be that girl?" she asked doubtfully. "How can I play that I amin love when I have never seen a man I cared for--in that way?"

  "Can't you imagine admiring a nice young man?" asked Ruth in return.

  "Not a white man like this one in your story," Wonota said soberly. "Itshould be that he did more for himself--that he was more of a--a brave.We Indians do not expect our men to be saved from disgrace by women.Squaws are not counted of great value among the possessions of a chief."

  "So you could not really respect such a man as I describe here if heallowed a girl to help him?" Ruth asked reflectively, for Wonota'scriticism was giving her some thought.

  "He should not be such a man--to need the help of a squaw," declared theIndian maid confidently. "But, of course, it does not matter if onlypalefaces are to see the picture."

  But Ruth could not get the thought out of her mind. It might be that theIndian girl had suggested a real fault in the play she was making, andshe took Mr. Hammond into her confidence about it when she sent him thefirst draft of the story. Her whole idea of the principal male characterin "Brigh
teyes" might need recasting, and she awaited the pictureproducer's verdict with some misgiving.

  While she waited a red-letter day occurred---so marked both for herselfand for Helen Cameron. The chums had hoped--oh, how fondly!--that theywould hear that Tom Cameron was on his way home. But gradually the factthat demobilization would take a long time was becoming a fixed idea inthe girls' minds.

  Letters came from Tom Cameron--one each for the two girls and one forMr. Cameron. Instead of being on his way home, Captain Cameron had beensent even farther from the French port to which he had originally sailedin the huge transport from New York.

  * * * * *

  "I am now settled on the Rhine--one of the 'watches,' I suppose, thatthe Germans used to sing about, now stamped 'Made in America,' however,"he wrote to Ruth. "We watch a bridge-head and see that the Germans don'tcarry away anything that might be needed on this side of the mostover-rated river in the world. I have come to the conclusion, sinceseeing a good bit of Europe, that most of the scenery is over-rated anddoes not begin to compare with the natural beauties of America. So manyforeigners come to our shores and talk about the beauty-spots of theirown countries, and so few Americans have in the past seen much of theirown land, that we accept the opinions of homesick foreigners as to thesuperiority of the beauties of their father-and-mother-lands. After thiswar I guess there will be more fellows determined to give the States the'once over.'"

  * * * * *

  Tom always wrote an Interesting letter; but aside from that, of courseRuth was eager to hear from him. And now, as soon as she could, she satdown and replied to his communication. She had, too, a particular topicon which she wished to write her friend.

  Now that embattled Germany would no longer hold its prisoners_incommunicado_, Ruth hoped that news about the imprisoned performers ofthe Wild West Show might percolate through the lines. Chief Totantorahad been able but once to get a message to his daughter.

  This message had reached America long before the United States had gotinto the war. Although the Osage chieftain was an American (who couldclaim such proud estate if Totantora could not?), the show by which hewas employed had gone direct to Germany from England, and anythingEnglish had, from the first, been taboo in Germany. Now, of course, theIndian girl had no idea as to where her father was.

  "See if you can hear anything about those performers," Ruth wrote toTom. "Get word if you can to the Chief of the Osage Indians and tell himthat his daughter is with me, and that she longs for his return.

  "I should love to make her happy by aiding in Chief Totantora'sreappearance in his native land. She is so sad, indeed, that I wonder ifshe is going to be able to register, for the screen, the happiness thatshe should finally show when my picture is brought to its conclusion."