The big ring, separated from the plank seats by a board fence put up in sections, offered a large enough tanbark-covered course to enable steers to be roped, bucking broncos exhibited, Indian riding races, and various other events dear to the heart of the Wild West Show fans.  And the program of Dakota Joe’s show was much like that of similar exhibitions.  He had some “real cowboys” and “sure-enough Indians,” as well as employees who were not thus advertised.  The steers turned loose for the cowboys to “bulldog” were rather tame animals, for they were used to the employment.  The “bronco busters” rode trick horses so well trained that they really acted better than their masters.  Some of the roping and riding—­especially by the Indians—­was really good.

And then came a number on the program that the four girls from Cheslow had impatiently awaited.  The announcer (Dakota Joe himself, on horseback and wearing hair to his shoulders a la Buffalo Bill) rode into the center of the ring and held up a gauntleted hand for attention.

“We now offer you, ladies and gentlemen, an exhibition in rifle shooting second to none on any program of any show in America to-day.  The men of the old West were most wonderful shots with rifle or six-gun.  To-day the new West produces a rifle shot that equals Wild Bill Hickok, Colonel Cody himself, or Major Lillie.  And to show that the new West, ladies and gentlemen, is right up to the minute in this as in every other pertic’lar, we offer Wonota, daughter of Chief Totantora, princess of the Osage Indians, in a rifle-shooting act that, ladies and gentlemen, is simply marv’lous—­simply marv’lous!”

He waved a lordly hand, the band struck up a strident tune, and on a “perfect love of a white pony,” as Helen declared, Wonota rode into the ring.

She looked just as calm as she had when she had shot the bull which threatened Ruth.  Nothing seemed to flutter the Indian girl’s pulse or to change her staid expression.  Yet the girls noticed that Dakota Joe spurred his big horse to the white pony’s side, and, unless they were mistaken, the man said something to Wonota in no pleasant manner.

“Look at that fellow!” exclaimed Helen.  “Hasn’t he an ugly look?”

“I guess he didn’t say anything pleasant to her,” Ruth rejoined, for she was a keen observer.  “I shouldn’t wonder if that girl was far from happy.”

“I shouldn’t want to work for that Dakota Joe,” added Mercy Curtis.  “Look at him!”

Unable to make Wonota’s expression of countenance change, the man, who was evidently angry with the Indian girl, struck the white pony sharply with his whip.  The pony jumped, and some of the spectators, thinking it a part of the program, laughed.

Unexpecting Dakota Joe’s act, Wonota was not prepared for her mount’s jump.  She was almost thrown from the saddle.  But the next instant she had tightened the pony’s rein, hauled it back on its haunches with a strong hand, and wheeled the animal to face Dakota Joe.