The grave face of the Indian girl broke into a slow smile.  When she did smile, Ruth thought her very winsome indeed.  Now that she had removed her headdress and wore her black hair in two glossy plaits over her shoulders, she was even more attractive.

“You are very kind,” Wonota said.  “But perhaps I should not trouble you with any of my difficulties.”

“If you have troubles,” interposed Jennie, “you’ve come to the right shop.  We all have ’em and a few more won’t hurt us a bit.  We’re just dying to know why that man treats you so mean.”

“He wouldn’t treat me that way!” put in Mercy vigorously.

“But you see I—­I am quite alone,” explained Wonota.  “Since Father Totantora went away I have been without any kin and almost without friends in our nation.”

“That is it,” said Ruth.  “Begin at the beginning.  Tell us how the chief came to leave you, and how you got mixed up with this Dakota Joe.  I have a very small opinion of that man,” added the girl of the Red Mill, “and I do not think you should remain in his care.”

CHAPTER V

INSPIRATION

It was on the verge of evening, and a keen and searching wind was blowing across the ruffled Lumano, when Helen Cameron’s car and its three occupants came in sight of the old Red Mill.  Mercy Curtis had been dropped at the Cheslow railway station, where she had the “second trick” as telegraph operator.

For the last few miles of the journey from the Wild West Show there had been a good-natured, wordy battle between Ruth and Helen as to which of the twain was to have Jennie Stone for the night.

“Her trunk is at my house,” Helen declared.  “So now!”

“But her toilet bag is at the farmhouse.  And, anyway, I could easily lend her pajamas.”

“She could never get into a suit of yours, you know very well, Ruth Fielding!” exclaimed Helen.

“I’d get one of Uncle Jabez’s long flannel nightgowns for her, then,” giggled Ruth.

“Look here!  I don’t seem to be in such great favor with either of you, after all,” interposed the plump girl.  “One would think I was a freak.  And I prefer my own night apparel in any case.”

“Then you’ll come home with me,” Helen announced.

“But I have things at Ruth’s house, just as she says,” said Jennie.

At the moment the car wheeled around the turn in the road and Helen stopped it at the gate before the old, shingled farmhouse which was connected by a passage with the grist mill.  A light flashed in the window and at once the place looked very inviting.  A door opened upon the side porch, and to the girls’ nostrils was wafted a most delicious odor of frying cakes.

“That settles it!” ejaculated Jennie Stone, and immediately sprang out of the car.  “I’m as hungry as a bear.  I’ll see you to-morrow, Nell, if you’ll ride over.  But don’t come too near mealtime.  I never could withstand Aunt Alvirah’s cooking.  M-mm!  Griddle-cakes—­with lashin’s of butter and sugar on ’em, I wager.”