THE HUBBELL RANCH
"You see, Miss Ruth," Mr. Hammond told the girl of the Red Mill as the
special car rolled out of the railroad yard, "this Dakota Joe has become
a very annoying individual. We had to fairly run away from him."
"I do not understand," Ruth said. "I think he should be shown his
place--and that place I believe is the police station."
"It would be rather difficult to get him into that for any length of
time. And in any case," and the picture producer smiled, it would cost
more than it would be worth. He really has done nothing for which he can
be punished--"
"I don't know. He might have had me killed that time his auto ran me
down," interrupted Ruth, indignantly.
"But the trouble is, we cannot prove that," Mr. Hammond hastened to
repeat. "I will see that you are fully protected from him hereafter."
Mr. Hammond did not realize what a large undertaking that was to be.
But he meant it at the time.
"The man is in trouble--no doubt of it," went on the producer
reflectively. "He has had a bad season, and his winter prospects are not
bright. I gave him an hour of my time yesterday before I advised you
that we would better get away from Chicago."
"But what does he expect of you, Mr. Hammond?" asked Ruth in surprise.
"He claims we are the cause of his unhappy business difficulties. His
show in on the verge of disintegrating. He wanted me to back him with
several thousand dollars. Of course, that is impossible."
"Why!" cried Ruth, "I would not risk a cent with such a man."
"I suppose not. And I felt no urge to comply with his request. He was
really so rough about it, and became so ugly, that I had to have him
shown out of the house."
"Goodness! I am glad we are going far away from him."
"Yes, he is not a nice neighbor," agreed Mr. Hammond. "I hope Wonota
will repay us for all the bother we have had with Dakota Joe."
"It seems too bad. Of course, it is not Wonota's fault," said Ruth. "But
if we had not come across her--if I had not met her, I mean--you would
not have been annoyed in this way, Mr. Hammond."
"Take it the other way around, Miss Ruth," returned her friend, with a
quizzical smile. "We should be very glad that you did meet Wonota.
Considering what that mad bull would have done to you if she had not
swerved him by a rifle shot, a little bother like this is a small price
to pay."
"Oh--well!"
"In addition," said Mr. Hammond briskly, "look what we may make out of
the Indian girl. She may coin us a mint of money, Ruth Fielding."
"Perhaps," smiled Ruth.
But she was not so eager for money. The thing that fascinated her
imagination was the possibility that they might make of Wonota, the
Osage maiden, a great and famous movie star. Ruth desired very much to
have a part in that work.
She knew, because Mr. Hammond had told her, as well as Wonota herself,
that the Osage Indians as a tribe were the wealthiest people under the
guardianship of the American Government. Their oil leases were fast
bringing the tribe a great fortune. But Wonota, being under age, had no
share in this wealth. At this time the income of the tribe was between
four and five thousand dollars a day--and the tribe was not large.
"But Wonota can have none of that," explained the Indian maid. "It is
apportioned to the families, and Totantora, the head of my family, is
somewhere in that Europe where the war is. I can get no share of the
money. It is not allowed."
So, with the incentive of getting money for her search, Wonota was
desirous of pleasing her white friends in every particular. Besides,
ambition had budded in the girl's heart. She wanted to be a screen
actress.
"If your 'Brighteyes,' Miss Fielding, is ever shown at Three Rivers
Station or Pawhuska, where the Agency is, I know every member of the
tribe will go to see the film. When some of the young men of our tribe
acted in a round-up picture when I was a little girl, even the old men
and great-grandmothers traveled a hundred miles to see the film run off.
It was like an exodus, for some of them were two days and nights on the
way"
"The Osage Indians are not behind the times, then?" laughed Ruth. "They
are movie fans?"
"They realize that their own day has departed. The buffalo and elk have
gone. Even the prairie chickens are seen but seldom. Almost no game is
found upon our plains, and not much back in the hills. Many of our young
men till the soil. Some have been to the Carlisle School and have taken
up professions or are teachers. The Osage people are no longer warlike.
But some of our young men volunteered for this white man's war."
"I know that," sad Ruth warmly. "I saw some of them over there in
France--at least, some Indian volunteers. Captain Cameron worked in the
Intelligence Service with some of them. That is the spy service, you
know. The Indians were just as good scouts in France and Belgium as they
were on their own plains."
"We are always the same. It is only white men who change," declared
Wonota with confidence. "The redman is never two-faced or two-tongued."
"Well," grumbled Jennie, afterward, "what answer was there to make to
that? She has her own opinion of Lo, the poor Indian, and it would be
impossible to shake it."
"Who wants to shake it?" demanded Helen. "Maybe she is right, at that!"
The thing about Wonota that "gave the fidgets" to Jennie and Helen was
the fact that she could sit for mile after mile, while the train rocked
over the rails, beading moccasins and other wearing apparel, and with
scarcely a glance out of the car window. Towns, villages, rivers,
plains, woods and hills, swept by in green and brown panorama, and
seemed to interest Wonota not at all. It was only when the train, after
they changed at Denver, began to climb into the Rockies that the Indian
maid grew interested.
The Osage Indians had always been a plains' tribe. The rugged and
white-capped heights interested Wonota because they were strange to
her. Here, too, were primeval forests visible from the windows of the
car. Hemlock and spruce in black masses clothed the mountainsides, while
bare-limbed groves of other wood filled the valleys and the sweeps of
the hills.
Years before Ruth and her two chums had been through this country in
going to "Silver Ranch," but the charm of its mysterious gorges, its
tottering cliffs, its deep canyons where the dashing waters flowed, and
the generally rugged aspect of all nature, did not fail now to awe them.
Wonota was not alone in gazing, enthralled, at the landscape which was
here revealed.
Two days of this journey amid the mountains, and the train slowed down
at Clearwater, where the special car was sidetracked. Although the
station was some distance from the "location" Mr. Hammond's
representative had selected for the taking of the outdoor pictures, the
company was to use the car as its headquarters. There were several
automobiles and a herd of riding ponies at hand for the use of the
company. Here, too, Mr. Hammond and his companions were met by the
remainder of the performers selected to play parts in "Brighteyes."
There were about twenty riders--cowpunchers and the like; "stunt
riders," for the most part. In addition there were more than a score of
Indians--some pure blood like Wonota, but many of them halfbreeds, and
all used to the moving picture work, down to the very toddlers clinging
to their mothers' blankets. The Osage princess was inclined to look
scornfully at this hybrid crew at first. Finally, however, she found
them to be very decent sort of folk, although none of them were of her
tribe.
Ruth and Helen and Jennie met several riders who had worked for Mr.
Hammond when he had made Ruth's former Western picture which is
described in "Ruth Fielding in the Saddle," and the gallant Westerners
were ready to devote themselves to the entertainment of the girls from
the East.
There was only one day of planning and making ready for the picture, in
which Helen and Jennie could be "beaued" about by the cow-punchers. Ruth
was engaged with Mr. Hammond, Jim Hooley, and the camera man and their
assistants. Everyone was called for work on the ensuing morning and the
automobiles and the cavalcade of pony-riders started for the Hubbell
Ranch.
Wonota rode in costume and upon a pony that was quite the equal of her
own West Wind. This pet she had shipped from the Red Mill to her home in
Oklahoma before going to New York. The principal characters had made up
at the car and went out in costume, too, They had to travel about ten
miles to the first location.
The Hubbell Ranch grazed some steers; but It was a horse ranch in
particular. The country was rugged and offered not very good pasturage
for cattle. But the stockman, Arad Hubbell, was one of the largest
shippers of horses and mules in the state.
It was because of the many half-broken horses and mules to be had on the
ranch that Mr. Hammond had decided to make "Brighteyes" here. The first
scenes of the prologue--including the Indian scare--were to be taken in
the open country near the ranch buildings. Naturally the buildings were
not included in any of the pictures.
A train of ten emigrant wagons, drawn by mules, made an imposing showing
as it followed the dusty cattle trail. The train wound in and out of
coulees, through romantic-looking ravines, and finally out upon the flat
grass-country where the Indians came first into view of the supposedly
frightened pilgrims.
Helen and Jennie, as well as Ruth herself, in the gingham and sunbonnets
of the far West of that earlier day, added to the crowd of emigrants
riding in the wagons. When the Indians were supposed to appear the
excitement of the players was very realistic indeed, and this included
the mules! The stock was all fresh, and the excitement of the human
performers spread to it. The wagons raced over the rough trail in a way
that shook up severely the girls riding in them.
"Oh--oo!" squealed Jennie Stone, clinging to Ruth and Helen. "What _are_
they trying to do? I'll be one m-a-ass of bruises!"
"Stop, William!" commanded Ruth, trying to make the driver of their
wagon hear her. "This is too--too realistic."
The man did not seem to hear her at all. Ruth scrambled up and staggered
toward the front, although Mr. Hooley had instructed the girls to remain
at the rear of the wagons so that they could be seen from the place
where the cameras were stationed.
"Stop!" cried Ruth again. "You will tip us over--or something."
There was good reason why William did not obey. His six mules had broken
away from his control entirely.
A man must be a master driver to hold the reins over three span of
mules; and William was as good as any man in the outfit. But as he got
his team into a gallop the leaders took fright at the charging Indians
on pony-back, and tried to leave the trail.
William was alone on the driver's seat. He put all his strength into an
attempt to drag the leaders back into the trail and--the rein broke!
Under ordinary circumstances this accident would not have been of much
moment. But to have pulled the other mules around, and so throw the
runaways, would have spoiled the picture. William was too old a movie
worker to do that.
When Ruth stumbled to the front of the swaying wagon and seized his
shoulder he cast rather an embarrassed glance back at her.
"Stop them! Stop!" the girl commanded.
"I'd like mighty well to do it, Miss Fielding," said William, wagging
his head, "but these dratted mules have got their heads
and--they--ain't---no notion o' stoppin' this side of the ranch
corrals."
Ruth understood him. She stared straight ahead with a gaze that became
almost stony. This leading wagon was heading for the break of a ravine
into which the trail plunged at a sharp angle. If the mules were swerved
at the curve the heavy wagon would surely overturn.
In twenty seconds the catastrophe would happen!