Ruth shook her head. "We shall have plenty to learn if we are to take part in your queer races next week. If my friend, Miss Carter, is better to-morrow you may expect us."

Grace came out on the porch. "I am well, already!" she apologized. "At least I decided that, headache or no headache, I couldn't miss all the fun this afternoon. So here I am!"

"Now, we must positively say good-bye, Miss Stuart," declared Mr. Latham, extending his hand. "I want to take you and your girls for a drive to Lake Queechy. Then you must see the place where the Hawthorne's 'little red house' formerly stood. The house burned down some years ago, but the site is interesting, for Hawthorne lived in the Berkshires a number of years and wrote 'The House of Seven Gables' here. We have plenty of literary associations, Miss Stuart. My people have lived here so long that I take a deep interest in the history of the place."

"Lake Queechy," Miss Sallie exclaimed sentimentally, "is the lake named for Susan Warner, the author of 'Queechy' and 'The Wide, Wide World.' Dear me, I shed quantities of tears over those books in my day. But girls don't care for such weepy books nowadays, do they? They want more fire and adventure. I am sure I should be ashamed of my 'Automobile Girls' if they fell to crying in the face of an obstacle. They prefer to overcome it. We shall be delighted to drive with you. Good-bye!"

"Curious, Reginald!" declared Mr. Winthrop Latham, when the two men had walked several yards from the hotel in silence. "That is a very remarkable story that your friends tell of the discovery of an unknown Indian child. Did they call her Eunice? That is strangest of all! You have been up on the hill with these girls a number of times. Have you seen this girl?"

Reginald mumbled something. It was not audible. But his uncle understood he had not seen the girl.

"Oh, well, the old woman is probably a gypsy tramp," Mr. Latham concluded, "but I will look up the child, some day, for my own satisfaction. Reg, boy, the rudder of our airship will be repaired in the next few days. Do you feel equal to another aerial flight?"

"Most assuredly I do," the nephew replied. The two men walked on. But, for once, they were not thinking of their favorite hobby. The mind of each man dwelt upon Mollie's story of a poor little Indian girl. What connection could she have with these two men of wealth and position?

Reginald Latham's suspicions were growing. The Indian girl might be an obstacle in his path.

"I must tell mother all I have heard and guessed," he reflected. "Under no circumstances must uncle be allowed to see this child. Mother will know how to manage. We may have to spirit the girl away, if she is the child I fear she is. But we must make sure."

Reginald Latham was not a pleasant man, but he was clever. If he had reason to fear little Eunice he would work quietly. What chance had the child and her ignorant, uncivilized grandmother against him?

Mr. Winthrop Latham's thoughts were of a different kind. "The young Indian girl," he assured himself, "can have no further possible interest for me."



CHAPTER XVI

AT THE AMBASSADOR'S

"Shall we walk down to the postoffice, Ruth?" Barbara asked. "I am awfully anxious for a letter from mother."

"Let's all go!" urged Grace. "We have just time enough before dressing for our call at the Ambassador's. I am told that everyone goes for his own letters in Lenox. We shall see all the social lights. They say titled foreigners line up in front of the Lenox postoffice to look for heiresses. Ruth, you are our only heiress. Here's a chance for you!" teased Grace.

Ruth looked provoked. "I won't be called horrid names, Grace Carter!" she asserted, indignantly. "Heiress or no heiress, when my turn comes for a husband I won't look at any old foreigner. A good American citizen will be a fine enough husband for me!"

"Hear! hear!" laughed Mollie, putting on her hat. "Don't let us quarrel over Ruth's prospective husband just at present. It reminds me of the old maid who shed tears before the pot of boiling fat. When her neighbor inquired what troubled her, the spinster said she was thinking that if she had ever been married her child might have played in the kitchen, and might have fallen into the pot of boiling oil! Come on, 'old maid Ruth,' let's be off."

The girls walked briskly through the bracing mountain air.

"I expect you will have a letter from Hugh or Ralph, Ruth," Barbara suggested. "They told you they would write you if they could come to Lenox for the week of games."

Ruth went into the postoffice to inquire for their mail. The other girls waited on the outside. A tall young woman swept by them, leading a beautiful English deerhound on a long silver chain. She had very blond hair and light blue eyes. Her glance rested on Barbara for the space of half a second.

"Dear me!" Barbara laughed. "How very young and insignificant that intensely superior person makes me feel! Maybe she is one of the heiresses Grace told us about."

"Here is a letter for you, Grace!" said Ruth, returning to her friends. "The one addressed to you, Bab, is probably for you and Mollie together. It is from your mother. Then I have two letters for myself and two for Aunt Sallie. It is all right; Hugh and Ralph will be here the first thing next week," announced Ruth, tearing open one of her notes.

"What would Aunt Sallie say if she could see us opening our mail on the street?" queried Barbara, as she promptly followed Ruth's bad example. "But this is such a quiet spot, under these old elms, that I must have a peep at mother's letter. Mother is having a beautiful time in St. Paul with Cousin Betty, Molliekins," continued Bab. "And what do you think? Our queer old cousin is sending us another present. What has come over her? First she sends the beautiful silk dresses and now—but mother doesn't tell what this last gift is. She says it is to be a surprise for us when we come back from Lenox."

"What fun!" cried Mollie. "Our crabbed cousin is having a slight change of heart. She has always been dreadfully bored with Bab and me," Mollie explained to Ruth and Grace, "but she is devoted to mother, and used to want her to live with her. But she never could make up her mind to endure us girls. Tell me some more news, Bab."

"Well," Barbara read on, "mother has had a letter from Mr. Stuart; but Ruth's letter will give her this news. He writes that his new gold mine is a perfect wonder. I am so glad for you, Ruth, dear!" Barbara ended.

"Oh!" Ruth exclaimed. "Father is so lucky! But we really don't need any more money. Just think, father only has Aunt Sallie and poor me to spend it all on. If he only had a big family it would be worth while to grow richer and richer. I wish you were really my sisters. Then you would let me share some of all this money with you, Bab dear," whispered Ruth in her best friend's ear, as the two girls dropped behind Mollie and Grace.

Barbara shook her head. Yet the tears started to her eyes in spite of the fact that she was out on the street. "You generous darling!" she replied. "If you aren't sharing your money with us by giving us all these good times, what are you doing? But, of course, we couldn't take your money in any other way. Mollie and I are used to being poor. We don't mind it so very much. Let's hurry. Aunt Sallie will want us to put on our best clothes for our call at the Ambassador's. Thank goodness for Cousin Betty's present to Mollie and me of the silk suits. We have never had such fine clothes before in our lives."

"Miss Sallie," inquired Barbara, an hour later, "will Mollie and I do for the call at the Ambassador's? You know this is the great event in our lives. Who knows but the Ambassador may even shake hands with humble me! Do Ambassadors shake hands, Aunt Sallie? Why, 'The Automobile Girls' may meet the President some day, we are getting so high in the world."

"Who knows indeed, Barbara?" responded Miss Stuart complacently. "Far more unlikely things have often happened. You and Mollie look very well, dear. Indeed, I never saw you in more becoming frocks. They are very dainty and stylish."

"Aunt Sallie," confessed Mollie, "I never had a silk dress before in all my life. Bab had one made over from an old one of mother's, but this is positively my first appearance 'in silk attire.'"

Bab's costume was of apricot rajah silk, made with a plaited skirt and a long coat, which fastened across her chest with a single gilt ornament. With it she wore a delicate lace blouse over silk of the same shade as her suit. Her hat was a large black chip with one long curling feather.

Mollie's dress was like Bab's, except that it was a delicate shade of robin's-egg blue, while her hat was of soft white felt, trimmed with a long blue feather.

"Let us look at ourselves in the mirror, Bab, until Miss Sallie is ready," whispered Mollie. "I want to try to get used to my appearance. Maybe you think this wealthy-looking person you now behold is some relative of yours—possibly your sister! But just understand that, as I look at myself in that mirror, nothing can make me believe I am poor little Mollie Thurston, of Kingsbridge, New Jersey! Why, I am now about to call on the English Ambassador, younger brother to an earl. But I am a brave girl. I shall put on as bold a front as possible, and I shall try not to disgrace Aunt Sallie by making any breaks."

"You goose you!" laughed Bab. "But to tell you the truth, sweet Mistress Mollie, I feel pretty much as you do. There is Ruth calling us. They are ready to start."

"Come on, children!" cried Ruth. "The automobile is waiting. My goodness!" she exclaimed, as Mollie and Bab appeared before her. "How very elegant you look! Don't tell me fine feathers don't make fine-looking birds! Aunt Sallie, I am not magnificent enough to associate with these two persons." Ruth had on a beautiful white serge suit and Grace a long tan coat over a light silk dress; but, for the first time, Mollie and Barbara were the most elegantly dressed of the four girls.

"People will be taking you for the heiress, and marrying you to some horrid titled foreigner!" teased Ruth, pinching Mollie's pretty cheek.

Miss Stuart and her girls found the English Ambassador and his wife in the stately drawing room of their summer place in Lenox. The room was sixty feet in length and hung with beautiful paintings. The walls and furniture were upholstered in rose-colored brocade. Flowers were arranged in every possible place.

The newcomers had a confused feeling that there were twenty or thirty guests in the drawing room; but as the butler announced their names their hostess moved forward from a group of friends to speak to them. In another moment Dorothy Morton spied them, and came up with her arm through that of a tall, middle-aged man, very slender, with closely cut blond hair and a long drooping mustache. He looked very intellectual and impressive.

"Miss Stuart, this is my father," said Dorothy simply. The Ambassador bowed low over Miss Stuart's hand. He was then introduced to each of "The Automobile Girls" in turn.

The Ambassador's eyes twinkled. He saw his young guests were a little awed at meeting so great a diplomatic personage.

"You are the girls, aren't you, who have been camping on one of our Berkshire hills?" the Ambassador inquired. "My daughters have told me about your delightful hut. Curious, I never heard of the little cabin's existence. I want you to show me the place. Some day I may follow your example and run away to the woods for a few weeks. Dorothy tells me you will help us with our games next week."

Miss Stuart excused herself. Mrs. Latham wished to talk with her in another part of the drawing room.

"May we count on you for the Gymkana races, Ruth?" asked Dorothy Morton.

"Gymkana races!" questioned Ruth, shaking her head. "What in the world can you mean?"

"Remember," laughed her hostess, "I told you our sports were to be a huge joke. You must have a sense of humor, or you won't want to take part. You know we have horse show grounds here in Lenox. Well, the Gymkana race this year will take place over their meadow. Indeed, all the sports are to be held there. Father, you explain what the games are like," Dorothy requested.

The Ambassador looked very grave.

"Miss Stuart," he asked, "will you or your friends drive a turkey, a duck, a hen, or a gander in our Gymkana race? My daughter, Dorothy, has, I believe, reserved an old gray goose as her especial steed; but you can make any other choice of racer that you may desire. The only point of the game is to get the nose of your steed first under the blue ribbon. It may take a good deal of racing and chasing on your own part to accomplish it."

Dorothy inquired, turning first to Ruth, then to Bab, Mollie and Grace, "May I put down your names for this race?"

Ruth laughed. "Certainly I shall enter," she declared. "I have as good a nerve as anyone else. You must give me time to decide on what animal I shall drive."

"I'll join, too!" Grace agreed. "Is this game for women only?"

"Yes," Dorothy replied. "Other distinguished sports are reserved for the men. What do you think of my serious-minded father? He is down for the 'egg and spoon' race. So are Franz Heller and Mr. Winthrop Latham. I mean to ask your two men friends, Mr. Post and Mr. Ewing, to enter, too. It's great sport. The men have to run across the track carrying a raw egg in a desert spoon. The man who first gets to the winning post without a mishap is the winner. But there will be other games as well. I am just mentioning a few of them."

Gwendolin Morton approached with Franz Heller and the tall blond girl whom "The Automobile Girls" had seen for a moment at the postoffice.

"We have to come to believe in the American fashion of introducing our friends," declared Miss Morton. "You know, in England it is not the custom to introduce people to one another at a tea party. May I present my friend, Maud Warren, to you, Miss Stuart, Miss Carter, and the Misses Thurston."

The four girls bowed. Maud Warren inclined her head slightly, giving each girl in turn a supercilious stare.

"I suppose father and Dorothy have been persuading you to take part in the nonsensical side of our entertainment next week," inquired Gwendolin. "I am trying to look after the riding. Do any of you ride horseback well enough to go in for the hurdle jumping? I warn you, you will find it difficult to win. Miss Warren is one of the best riders in New York. She has taken prizes at hurdle jumping before, at her riding school."

Ruth declined. "I am afraid no one of us rides well enough to go in for this contest. I ride, of course, but I am not equal to the jumping."

Ruth spied Barbara looking at her with longing eyes.

"I beg your pardon, Bab!" Ruth laughed. "I had no right to decline the hurdle jumping for all of us. Would you like to try?"

"Of course, I should like to try!" Barbara exclaimed. "But I know it is out of the question. I have no horse, and I haven't a riding habit here." Barbara turned shyly to the Ambassador. "I have never done any real hurdle jumping," she explained. "But I have jumped over all kinds of fences riding through the country."

The Ambassador smiled. "You need no better training for hurdle races," he replied.

"If a horse is what you need," cried Dorothy Morton, "why not use one from our stables. We have a number of riding horses. Do let me lend you one and enter the hurdle jumping contest. It is a dangerous amusement, however. I won't try it."

"Oh, I am not in the least afraid," Bab declared. "Only, if I am left at the post, and can't take a single hurdle, you must forgive me."

"Well, you understand," finished the Ambassador, "our amusements are only for our own friends."

"Come here, Mollie," called Miss Stuart, from her corner of the room, where she was seated near Mrs. Latham.

"Mollie," explained Miss Sallie, as the child approached, "Mrs. Latham is much interested in our little Indian girl. Her son, Reginald, has told her of the accident to Eunice. Mrs. Latham is anxious to know to what hospital in Pittsfield Naki has taken the child. I did not ask Ruth. Can you tell us the name?"

Mollie looked at Mrs. Latham steadily. The older woman dropped her eyes. "Eunice is not yet allowed to see visitors," she answered.

"Oh, I have no wish to call on the child," Mrs. Latham protested, "but if the Indian girl and her old grandmother are in want I shall send a man to look after them. My brother is most generous to the poor, Miss Stuart."

But Mollie went on. "Thank you, Mrs. Latham, but Eunice and her grandmother are not poor. Ruth is looking after them now. The grandmother wishes to take Eunice back to their wigwam on the hill, when the little girl is well enough to be moved."

Mrs. Latham frowned. She had her own reasons for wishing to discover the address of the Indian woman and her child. Yet she did not want to appear to be much interested.

Barbara came up to join Mollie.

"Your sister seems determined that no one shall take interest in your little Indian protegee except her own friends," declared Mrs. Latham, smiling at Bab. "Perhaps you would not object to telling me where the child is located."

"Why certainly not!" Barbara exclaimed frankly, looking in surprise at Mollie.

But Mollie interrupted her. The little girl's cheeks were burning hot. She was conscious of her own bad manners, and of Miss Stuart's look of disappointment. Yet she spoke before Bab could continue.

"I am sorry for Mrs. Latham to think I am rude in not telling her where Eunice is staying; but it seems to me that, if her old Indian grandmother has kept Eunice hidden all these years, she must have had some good reason. It does not seem fair to me for us to talk about her just because, through an accident, we had to send her to town. I think, if the grandmother wishes to keep Eunice hidden, we ought at least to ask the old woman's permission before we tell anyone where she is staying. I am awfully sorry," Mollie ended, apologetically, "but I do feel that I am right."

Mrs. Latham was very angry. "I am sure I beg your pardon, Miss Thurston," she rejoined icily, before she moved away. "I meant nothing by my harmless inquiry. I can assure you I am not unduly interested in your protegee. If you wish to keep the gypsy girl's hiding place a secret, do so, by all means."

"Mollie, I am exceedingly angry with you!" said Miss Sallie.

"How could you be so horrid, Mollie?" whispered Bab.

Mollie's blue eyes were swimming in tears, but she would not let them fall on her flushed cheeks. She knew she must say good-bye to her new acquaintances, so she dared not answer Miss Sallie then.

But on the way back to their hotel, seated next Miss Stuart in the automobile, Mollie tried to offer an explanation for her rude behavior.

"Miss Sallie," she pleaded softly, "I know you are dreadfully angry with me; and I am afraid you won't forgive me; but I just couldn't make up my mind to let Mrs. Latham know where to find Eunice and her old grandmother. I know you will think I am foolish. Perhaps I am. But I have a feeling that Reginald Latham and his mother mean no good to Eunice. I can't help remembering how the old squaw acted when she first heard the name of Latham. I cannot believe she was just acting for effect as Reginald Latham said she was. There is some mystery about little Eunice. Do you think, Miss Sallie, we girls have a right to betray the old Indian woman's secrets?"

"My sympathies are all with Mollie, Aunt Sallie!" Ruth declared. "I shall have to come in for a share of her scolding."

But Barbara shook her head. "I never knew anyone so prejudiced as Mollie is against Reginald Latham. What on earth do you suppose he and his mother could have against a poor old squaw and her little girl? Would you have helped pulled Reginald down out of his airship, if you had known how you would dislike him, Mollie?" Bab asked.

But Mollie was looking wistfully at Miss Sallie, and did not heed Barbara's question.

"I don't care what a young girl may think on any subject," Miss Stuart declared firmly, "she has no right to be rude to an older woman. And Mollie was undeniably rude to Mrs. Latham in refusing to answer her simple question. It could have done no harm to have told her the name of the hospital where Eunice is being treated."

"No, it wouldn't have done Eunice any harm to tell that much, Mollie," Ruth agreed, "because, if that very determined Mrs. Latham wishes to discover where little Eunice is, she will certainly accomplish it. Why, she rules her grown-up son with a rod of iron!"

"Mark my words!" said Grace, joining quietly in the conversation—Grace was not often given to expressing an opinion, so even Miss Sallie listened to her with respect. "I would like to bet a great big box of candy that Mrs. Latham sees Eunice and her Indian grandmother before they are many weeks older. The Lathams have some connection with little Eunice, though goodness knows I can't guess what it is."

Mollie had nothing more to say. She was in the motor car now. Her tears could flow freely.

Miss Sallie pretended, for a few moments, not to see that Mollie was crying. A breach in social etiquette was a sore offense to Miss Stuart. But after a little while she put her arm around the little girl and gave her a gentle squeeze.

"I will forgive you, this time, dear," she murmured, "but I never want you, Mollie, to be rude to a grown person again. And I don't think, my dear, it is a good idea to have a suspicious nature."

"I didn't mean to be rude," Mollie sighed, putting her head against Miss Stuart's arm. "I was only trying not to tell Mrs. Latham what she wanted to know." Because it was now dark, and Mollie could not see her face, Miss Sallie smiled.



CHAPTER XVII

A VISIT TO EUNICE

"O girls, I have had the most splendiferous time!" cried Bab, bounding into the hotel sitting room. She wore Ruth's tan colored riding habit and a little brown derby. Her curls were drawn up in a knot at the back of her head. Her brown eyes were sparkling. She pranced into the room, as though she were still on horseback.

"Miss Sallie, I never knew what horseback riding could mean until to-day. Dorothy Morton has lent me a perfect dream of a horse. Its name is Beauty. It is black and slim and has a white star on its nose. My, don't I wish it were mine! Well, Beauty and I took our hurdles to-day, at the Ambassador's farm, as though we had been jumping together all our lives. See, here!" Barbara vaulted lightly over a low stool, and stood in the center of the room, brandishing her riding crop.

"Barbara Thurston!" Mollie exclaimed.

"Good gracious!" protested Bab. "I didn't dream we had a visitor. I am so sorry! I have been practising for the hurdle jumping next week," Bab ended tamely.

A stout man, with iron gray hair and a kindly expression, smiled at Barbara.

"Oh, don't mind my presence," he said. "I have a daughter of my own who is fond of horseback riding."

"Barbara," explained Miss Stuart, "this is Doctor Lewis. He has been good enough to come over from the hospital to tell us about Eunice."

Barbara noticed that Ruth, Grace and Mollie had been listening to the doctor with absorbed attention.

"The Indian girl has asked for her friends several times in the last few days," the doctor continued, "but she has not been well enough to be permitted to talk. The nurses tell me the child had been most patient. They are much attracted toward her. Now, I think it may do the little girl good to see you. Naki, your guide has explained to me the circumstances of your finding of the child. It is most remarkable. But I wonder if you are really interested in the girl, or whether you are being kind to her, now, only because of her accident?"

"Why do you ask me, doctor?" Miss Stuart inquired quietly.

"Because," the doctor answered honestly, "I am much interested in the child myself. I would like to know that she has friends. The grandmother, stupid and ignorant though she is, seems devoted to the child. As for Eunice herself, she is an enigma. She is not in the least like the grandmother. The old Indian woman is probably of mixed white and Indian blood, but the child has less Indian blood. Eunice must have had a white mother or father. I have asked the child about her parents, but she knows absolutely nothing about them, and the Indian woman will not tell. She told me, very decidedly, that it was not my business to inquire; that I was to make Eunice well after which she and her grandchild would go back to their wigwam and live in peace. But that beautiful little girl ought not to grow up in entire ignorance. She should be educated, and given an opportunity to develop."

"I agree with you, doctor," Miss Sallie rejoined, "but the case will present difficulties. The old grandmother is the child's natural guardian. She will never be persuaded to give her up."

"Doctor," declared Ruth shyly, "if it were possible I should love to educate little Eunice. I could send her to school and do whatever is best for her. But I am afraid we have no right to do it for her."

"Well, I cannot recommend kidnapping the child, Miss Ruth," the doctor replied, "but, perhaps, you girls can persuade the old Indian to be less obstinate. Come and see my little charge when you can. She is quite well enough to see you. I shall not have to keep her at the hospital a great while longer. Her arm is still bandaged. She will soon be able to walk about."

"Aunt Sallie," Ruth asked, as soon as the doctor left, "may I have Eunice up at the hotel with us, as soon as she is well enough to leave the hospital?"

Miss Sallie demurred. "I must see the child again first, Ruth, dear. She can come here for the day, but not longer. She will be best with Naki and Ceally for a time. Now, Ruth, don't be so impetuous. You must not plan impossible schemes. Remember, this Indian child is entirely uneducated. She does not know the first principles of good manners. But I am perfectly willing that you should do what seems best for her."

"When shall we go to see Eunice?" Ruth asked, turning to the other three girls.

"Oh, let us go this afternoon, please, Ruth," pleaded Mollie.

"But Mr. Latham has asked us to go driving with him," Barbara objected.

"Mr. Latham has only asked Aunt Sallie and one of us, Bab," Ruth rejoined. "Suppose you go with Aunt Sallie. Reginald Latham would rather have you along. And, to tell you the truth, Grace and Mollie and I would much rather go to see Eunice."

Mollie and Grace both nodded.

"But I don't want to be left out of the visit to Eunice, either," Bab protested. "Never mind," she went on, lowering her voice; "if Reginald Latham has any connection with Eunice, see if I don't find it out this afternoon."

"Never, Bab!" cried Grace.

"Well, just you wait and see!" ended Mistress Barbara.

"Mollie, you go into the room to see Eunice first," said Ruth as they reached the hospital. "Grace and I will wait outside the door. You can call us when you think we may come in. Eunice may be frightened."

But Ruth need not have feared.

As Mollie went into her room, Eunice was sitting up in bed. Her straight black hair was neatly combed and hung over her shoulders in two heavy braids. The child had on a fresh white night gown. Already she looked fairer from the short time spent indoors.

Eunice stretched out her slim brown hands to Mollie.

"My little fair one!" she cried rapturously.

"I feared never to see you again. My grandmother told me I must return to the wigwam as soon as I am well; but I do not want to leave this pretty bed. See how white and soft it is."

Mollie kissed Eunice.

The child looked at her curiously. "Why do you do such a strange thing to me?" asked Eunice.

Mollie was amazed. "Don't you know what a kiss is, Eunice? I kissed you because I am fond of you."

Eunice laughed gleefully. "Indians do not kiss," she declared. "But I like it."

"Shall I ask the other girls to come in?" Mollie inquired. "My two friends, Ruth and Grace, are waiting in the hall. They wish to see you."

Eunice nodded. "I like to see you while grandmother is away," she confided. "Grandmother says it is not wise for me to talk so much. But it is hard to be all the time so silent as the Indians are. Some days I have talked to the wild things in the woods."

Ruth dropped a bunch of red roses on Eunice's bed.

The child clutched them eagerly. "It is the red color that I love!" she cried in delight.

"Eunice," Ruth asked, "do you remember your father and mother?"

Eunice shook her head. "I remember no one," she replied. "Long ago, there was an old Indian man. He made canoes for me out of birch bark. He was my grandmother's man—husband, I think you call him in your language."

The three "Automobile Girls" were disappointed. Eunice could remember no associations but Indian ones. There was nothing to prove that Eunice was not an Indian except the child's appearance.

Mollie decided to make another venture.

"Eunice," she asked, "do you still wear the gold chain around your neck? I saw it the day you were hurt. It is so pretty I should like you to show it to my friends."

The Indian girl looked frightened. "You will not tell my grandmother?" she pleaded. "She would be very angry if she knew I wore it. I found the pretty chain, one day, among some other gold things in an old box in the wigwam." Why! Eunice pointed in sudden excitement to the watch Ruth wore fastened on the outside of her blouse—"there was a round shiny thing like that in the box. The other golden ornaments are at the wigwam. Only this chain is Indian. So there seemed no wrong in my wearing it."

Eunice slipped her chain from under her gown. Ruth and Grace examined it closely.

"Eunice," Grace exclaimed, "there are two English letters engraved on the pendant of your chain. They are E. L., I am pretty sure."

"The same letters are on all the gold things," Eunice declared.

"Well, E. stands for Eunice plainly enough," volunteered Ruth, "but I can't guess what the L. means."

Mollie said nothing.

"You know, Ruth," protested Grace, "the initials may not be Eunice's. The child only found the chain at the wigwam. There is no telling where the jewelry she speaks of came from."

"Oh!" Ruth cried, in a disappointed tone, "I never thought of that!"

"Eunice, we must go now," announced Ruth, "but I want you to promise me not to go back to the wigwam with your grandmother until you have first seen me. Tell your grandmother I wish to talk with her. I want you to come to see where I live."

Eunice shook her head. "I should be afraid," she replied simply.

"But you are not afraid with me, Eunice," Mollie said. "If you will promise to come to see us, when you are better, you shall stay right by me all the time. Will you promise?"

"I promise," agreed the child.

"Naki is to let me hear as soon as you are well enough to leave the hospital," said Ruth.

"O Ruth," whispered Mollie. "Eunice will have no clothes to wear up at the hotel, even to spend the day. Shall I send her a dress of mine?"

"Eunice," Ruth asked, "do you know what a present is?"

"No," was the reply.

"Well, a present is something that comes in a box, and is soft and warm this time," Ruth explained. "Eunice must wear the present when she is ready to leave the hospital. When you are well enough to come to see us, I am coming to the hospital for you. I am going to take you flying to the hotel where we are staying, on the back of a big red bird."

"You make fun," said the Indian solemnly.

"You just wait until you see my motor car, Eunice!" cried Ruth. "It is the biggest bird, and it flies as fast as any you have ever seen. So do please hurry up and get well."

"I will, now. I did not wish to get well before," Eunice replied. "It is cold and lonely up on the hill in the snow time."



CHAPTER XVIII

PLANS FOR THE SOCIETY CIRCUS

"Ralph and Hugh! I am so delighted to see you!" cried Mollie Thurston, a few days later. She was alone in their sitting room writing a letter, when the two friends arrived. "We girls have been dreadfully afraid you would not arrive in time for our Society Circus. You know the games take place to-morrow."

"Oh, it is a 'Society Circus' we have come to! So that is the name Lenox has given to its latest form of social entertainment?" laughed Hugh. "Sorry we couldn't get here sooner, Mollie; but you knew you could depend on our turning up at the appointed time. Where are the other girls and Aunt Sallie?"

"They are over at the Fair Grounds, watching Bab ride," Mollie explained. "Ralph, I am awfully worried about Bab. One of the amusements of the circus is to be a riding contest. Of course, Bab rides very well, but I don't think mother would approve of her undertaking such dangerous riding as jumping over hurdles. Ambassador Morton has told Aunt Sallie that there will be no danger. He is used to English girls riding across the country; and I know, at the riding schools in New York, they give these same contests; but we have never had any riding lessons. I can't help being nervous."

"I wouldn't worry, Mollie," Ralph replied kindly. "I am sure Bab is equal to any kind of horseback exercise. Remember the first time we saw her, Hugh? She was riding down the road in the rain, astride an old bareback horse. We nicknamed her 'Miss Paul Revere' then and there. There isn't any use trying to keep Bab off a horse, Mollie, when she has the faintest chance to get on one."

"Come on, then," laughed Mollie, smiling at the picture Ralph's remark had brought to her mind. "We will walk over to the Fair Grounds. You will find nearly everybody we know in Lenox over there. You remember that you boys gave Ruth and Bab liberty to put your names down for any of the games; come and find out what trouble they have gotten you into. You never dreamed of such absurd amusements as we are to have."

"Oh, we are game for anything," Hugh declared. "Lenox sports are the jolliest I have yet run across. Don't think any other place can produce anything just like them. Certainly the amusements are a bit unconventional, but they are all the more fun. 'Society Circus' is a good name for the entertainment. Anything goes in a 'Society Circus.'"

"What curious amusements people do have for the benefit of charities!" reflected Mollie. "But I expect the Lenox Hospital will receive a great deal of money from the sports this year. You see, they are in charge of the English Ambassador. That alone would make the entertainment popular."

"Is Mollie growing worldly wise, Hugh?" asked Ralph, with mock horror.

"Looks like it, Ralph," was the reply.

The boys and Mollie found Barbara in the midst of a gay circle of young people. Grace and Ruth were nowhere to be seen.

Aunt Sallie sat with Mrs. Morton in the grandstand. The Ambassador and Mr. Winthrop Latham wandered about near them. Many preparations were necessary for the next day's frolic.

In front of the grandstand stretched a wide, green field, enclosed with a low fence. A little distance off stood the club house.

Bab came forward with both hands extended to greet her friends. She gave one hand to Ralph, the other to Hugh.

"I am so glad to see you!" she declared. "I can't wait to shake your hands in the right way. We girls were so afraid you had turned 'quitters'! Come, this minute, and see Aunt Sallie. You must be introduced, too, to Ambassador and Mrs. Morton."

"But where are Ruth and Grace?" inquired Ralph.

"Over yonder," laughed Bab, pointing to the green inclosure in front of them.

The boys spied Ruth and Grace some distance off. The two girls were deep in conversation with a farm boy. Strutting around near them were a fat turkey gobbler and a Plymouth Rock rooster.

Just at this moment Ruth was giving her instructions. "Be sure you bring the turkey and the rooster over to the Fair Grounds by ten o'clock to-morrow morning."

The boy grinned. "I'll have 'em here sure, Miss."

"Ruth," asked Grace, as the two girls started back across the meadow to join their friends, "do you suppose it will be unkind for us to try to drive these poor barnyard fowls across a field before so many people? I presume the poor old birds will be frightened stiff. Whoever heard of anything so utterly absurd as a Gymkana race."

"Oh, no, you tender-hearted Grace," Ruth assured her. "I don't think the kind of pets we are to drive to-morrow will be much affected by our efforts. Indeed they are likely to lead us more of a chase than we shall lead them. And I don't believe the annoyance of being run across this field by us for a few yards equals the nervous shock of being scared by an automobile or a carriage. That alarm may overtake poor Brother Turkey and Mr. Rooster any day. I think our race is going to be the greatest fun ever! Why! I think I see Ralph Ewing and Hugh over there with the girls. Isn't that great?"

"Miss Morton!" Hugh was protesting gayly, as Grace and Ruth joined the crowd of their friends. "You don't mean to say that Barbara and Ruth have put Ralph's name and mine down for three of your performances? How shall we ever live through such a tremendous strain! Kindly explain to me what is expected of us."

Dorothy Morton got out her blankbook, where she had written each item of the next day's programme. "Well, Mr. Post, you and Mr. Ewing are down for three of our best events, 'The Egg and Spoon Race,' 'The Dummy Race' and 'The Thread and Needle Race.'"

"All right," declared Ralph, meekly accepting his fate, "but will you kindly tell me what a Thread and Needle Race is?"

"It is a very easy task, Ralph, compared with what Grace and I have undertaken," Ruth assured him. "All you do, in the 'Thread and Needle Race,' is to ride across this field on horseback carrying a needle. Of course, the real burden is on the woman. It always is. Some fair one is waiting for you at the end of your ride; she must sew a button on your coat. The sooner she can accomplish this, the better; for back you must ride, again, to the starting place, with the button firmly attached to your coat."

"Will you sew the button on for me, Mollie?" Ralph begged. He saw that Mollie was taking less part in the amusements than the other girls.

"Certainly!" agreed Mollie. "I accept your proffered honor. To tell you the truth, you stand a better chance of winning with my assistance. I am a much better seamstress than Bab."

"Oh, Bab, will be busy winning the riding prize," declared Ralph under his breath, smiling at his two friends, Mollie and Barbara.

Maud Warren, the New York girl famous for her skillful riding, was standing near them, talking with Reginald Latham. As she overheard Ralph's remark, a sarcastic smile flitted across her pale face. She had ignored Bab since their introduction at the Ambassador's; but the thought of this poor country girl's really knowing how to ride horseback was too much for her.

Barbara caught Maud Warren's look of amusement and blushed furiously. Then she turned to Ralph and said aloud, "Oh, I am not a rider when compared with Miss Warren."

"I don't believe in comparisons, Miss Thurston," declared the Ambassador, who had walked up to them. "But I think you are an excellent horsewoman. And I much prefer your riding in the old-fashioned way with a side saddle. I have observed that it is now fashionable, in Lenox, for the young women to ride astride."

"Girls," Miss Stuart declared, "it is luncheon time. We must return to the hotel."

"Now, does everybody understand about to-morrow?" asked Gwendolin Morton, when the last farewells had been said. "Remember, the Gymkana race is first. We started with this spectacle for fear the girls who have promised to take part might back out. Then, immediately after lunch, we shall have our horseback riding and jumping."

"I don't believe I have been wise in permitting you to engage in this horseback riding, Barbara," Miss Stuart declared on their way home. "I am afraid this jumping over fences is a dangerous sport. And I am not sure it is ladylike."

"But English girls do it all the time, Aunt Sallie. Jumping hurdles is taught in the best riding schools."

"You have had no lessons, Bab. Are you perfectly sure you do not feel afraid?" queried Miss Stuart.

"Oh, perfectly, dear Aunt Sallie," Bab assured her.



CHAPTER XIX

THE OLD GRAY GOOSE

The day for the Lenox sports dawned clear and beautiful. By breakfast time the mists had rolled away from the hilltops. The trees, which were now beginning to show bare places among their leafy branches, beheld their own reflections in the lakes that nestled at the feet of the Lenox hills.

From their veranda Miss Stuart and her girls could see every style of handsome vehicle gliding along the perfect roads that led toward the Fair Grounds from the beautiful homes surrounding the old township.

The Society Circus could be enjoyed only by invitation. The tickets had been sent out only to the chosen. An invitation meant the payment of five dollars to the Hospital Fund.

Barbara was the first of the girls to be ready to start to the Fair Grounds. She wore the tan riding-habit that Ruth had loaned her. She was not to ride until later in the day, but it would not be feasible to return to the hotel to change her costume.

Miss Stuart and her party had been asked to be the guests at luncheon of Ambassador and Mrs. Morton.

Ruth and Grace were dressed in short skirts, loose blouses, and coats. They, also, looked ready for business. So only Miss Stuart and Mollie were able to wear the handsome toilets suited to the occasion. Mollie appeared in her blue silk costume. Miss Sallie was resplendent in a pearl gray broadcloth and a hat of violet orchids.

At half-past nine, Hugh Post and Ralph Ewing knocked at Miss Stuart's sitting-room door. Barbara had already seen Ruth's and Hugh's automobiles waiting for them on the hotel driveway. The boys were impatient to be off.

"Kindly explain to me, Ruth," asked Hugh, as the party finally started, "why you are carrying those two large bolts of ribbon? Are you going into the millinery business to-day?"

Ruth laughed. "Remember, if you please, that Grace and I are going in for a much more serious undertaking. These ribbons are the reins that we intend to use for our extraordinary race to-day. I shall endeavor to drive my turkey with blue strings. Grace considers red ribbon more adapted to the disposition and appearance of a rooster."

"Well, you girls certainly have nerve to take part in such a wild goose chase!" laughed the boy.

At the Fair Grounds Miss Stuart had reserved seats for her party near the green inclosure. Just in front of them was a little platform, decorated in red, white and blue bunting. On this were seated the Ambassador, Franz Heller, Mr. Winthrop Latham, Reginald and several other prominent Lenox residents.

Grace and Ruth were not allowed to remain with their friends; they were immediately hurried off to the clubhouse, where they found eight other girls waiting for them. The entrance of the ten girls, driving their extraordinary steeds, was to be the great opening event of the Society Circus.

At ten-thirty Mr. Winthrop Latham announced the first feature of their entertainment.

A peal of laughter burst from hundreds of throats.

Marching from the clubhouse were ten pretty girls, "shooing" in front of them ten varieties of barnyard fowls!

Dorothy Morton walked along in a stately fashion, led by an old gray goose. Neither Miss Morton nor the goose seemed in the least degree disturbed by the applause and laughter.

Ruth's turkey was not so amiable. It stopped several times in its promenade from the clubhouse, to crane its long neck back at the driver. The turkey's small eyes surveyed the scene about it with a look of mingled suspicion and indignation. The old rooster, which regarded the occasion as given in its honor, traveled in front of Grace at a lively pace.

Within the inclosed field, just in front of the little stand, where the Ambassador and his friends sat, two poles had been placed ten yards apart. Across the meadow, about an eighth of a mile, were two other poles of the same kind.

The girls were to try to persuade their curious steeds to run across the field from the first posts to those opposite. There the drivers were expected to turn their steeds and come safely back to the starting place.

Of the ten entrances Grace and her rooster made the best start. Ruth's turkey refused to stir; he had found a fat worm on the ground in front of him. His attention was riveted to that. Ruth flapped her blue silk reins in vain.

But a peacock bore the turkey company. Seeing himself and his barnyard acquaintances the center of so many eyes, Mr. Peacock was properly vain. He spread his beautiful fan-shaped tail, and would not be driven from the starting-place.

Dorothy Morton and her old gray goose continued their stately walk across the meadow. Only once did the goose's dignity forsake it. Grace's excitable rooster crossed its path! The rooster had made a short scurry to the side, his driver trying to persuade him back to the straight path. As the rooster hurried past the old gray goose, the latter stopped short, gave an indignant flap of its wings, rose a few inches from the ground, and pecked at Mr. Rooster. A moment later the goose continued its dignified march.

This incident was too much for Grace's irascible rooster. With a terrified crow he darted first this way, then that, until Grace was wound up in her own red silk reins. It seemed a hopeless task to try to reach the goal.

It was another instance of the old story of the hare and the tortoise. While Grace struggled with her rooster, a fat duck waddled past her. The duck's mistress had enticed her nearly the whole length of the journey by throwing grains of corn a yard or so ahead of her steed. Of course, any well disposed duck would move forward for refreshments.

Dorothy Morton arrived safely at the first goal with her old gray goose. But now her troubles really began. Her steed had no disposition to return to the crowd of noisy spectators that it had so cheerfully left behind. Dorothy tugged at one of her heavy white reins. The goose continued placidly on its way across the broad field. A goose is not a pleasant bird in attack, and Dorothy did not like to resort to forcible methods.

Assistance came from an unexpected quarter. Grace's rooster had at last been persuaded to rush violently between the required posts. In one of its excited turns, it brushed close behind the old goose. Here was a chance for revenge! The rooster gave a flying peck at the goose's tail feathers and flew on.

With a loud squawk the goose turned completely around. It flew up in the air, then down to the ground again, and made a rush for its opponent. But the rooster was unworthy game. It tacked too often to the right and left. The old gray goose gave up its pursuit in disgust. Since it was headed toward the starting-place it took up its walk again, Dorothy Morton meekly following it.

Only three of the girls remained in the race. Ruth had given up in despair. Her turkey had wandered off to parts unknown. Another girl sat on an upturned stump feeding crumbs to a motherly hen that had found walking disagreeable and had taken to scratching around the roots of a tree.

Dorothy passed her rival with the duck midway on her journey back home. The duck took no further interest in corn. It had eaten all that a well-bred fowl could desire. Now it squatted in the grass to enjoy a well-earned repose.

Shrieks of laughter rose when Dorothy Morton at last drove her gray goose back to the judge's stand.

"Hurrah for the old gray goose!" shouted the spectators in merry applause.

Franz Heller rushed down from the platform, carrying two wreaths in his hands. One was made of smilax and pink roses; the other a small wreath of evergreens with a silver bell fastened to it. Franz dropped the rose garland over Dorothy Morton's head. The small wreath with the bell he placed on the neck of the old gray goose.

Exhausted, Dorothy dropped into the nearest seat. The old gray goose wandered off toward home, led by a proud farmer's boy.

Scarcely had the laughter from the first event ceased, when the Thread and Needle Race was called for.

Ralph Ewing was an easy winner, thanks to Mollie's skill as a seamstress. Ralph declared the button she sewed on him should ornament his coat for evermore.

But the Egg and Spoon Race was a closely contested event.

The race appeared to be a tie between Ambassador Morton and Mr. Winthrop Latham.

Near-sighted Franz Heller made a brave start, but his eyes betrayed him. Carefully carrying his egg in a spoon which he bore at arm's length, Franz forgot to look down at his feet. He stumped his toe against a small stone. Crash, the egg rolled from his spoon! A yellow stream marked the place where it fell.

Mr. Latham and the Ambassador were painstaking men. They ran along, side by side, at a gentle pace. The man who arrived first at the appointed goal with an unbroken egg was, of course, the victor.

Unfortunately for Mr. Latham, an old habit overcame him. In the midst of the contest he paused to adjust his glasses. The movement of his arm was fatal. His spoon tipped and his egg rolled gently to the earth.

Still the Ambassador continued unmoved on his stately journey. With a smile he solemnly handed an unbroken white egg to Reginald Latham.

"Here, cook this for your breakfast!" he advised Reginald, who was acting as judge of this famous event.

Cutting a lemon with a saber, and the Dummy Race, ended the morning's sports. The afternoon was to be devoted to riding.



CHAPTER XX

BARBARA AND BEAUTY

"Barbara, you are eating very little luncheon," Ralph Ewing whispered in Bab's ear.

Ambassador and Mrs. Morton were entertaining a large number of friends in the dining-room of the clubhouse.

Maud Warren smiled patronizingly across the table at Barbara.

"Are you nervous about our riding this afternoon?" Maud asked. "Mr. Heller, do please pass Miss Thurston those sandwiches. She must want something to keep up her courage."

Kind-hearted Franz Heller hurriedly presented Bab with all the good things he could reach.

"Thank you, Mr. Heller," said Barbara, gratefully. Her cheeks were crimson; her brown eyes flashed, but she made no reply. Mollie, who knew Bab's quick temper, wondered how her sister controlled herself.

A horn blew to announce that the luncheon hour was ended.

"Run along, child," Miss Stuart called nervously to Bab. "Now, do, pray be careful! I shall certainly be glad when this riding contest is over."

While the guests of the Society Circus were at luncheon the field had been arranged for the hurdle-jumping.

Inside the green meadow four short length fences had been set up, a quarter of a mile apart. The girls were to ride around the field on their horses and jump the four hurdles.

Besides Bab and Maud Warren, four other Lenox girls had entered for this race. The riders were all skilled horsewomen.

Ambassador Morton waved his hand to Bab as she cantered by him on his little horse, Beauty. Her friends called out their good wishes. Bab smiled and nodded. She never looked so well or so happy as when she was on the back of a horse.

Ambassador Morton cautioned the girls before they started for their ride. "Remember, this is just a friendly contest," he urged. "We merely want to see you young people ride. No one may allow her horse to cross too close in front of another horse. Two of you must not try to jump the hurdle at the same time."

The six girls cantered bravely down the field.

Maud Warren and Bab rode side by side. Barbara was the youngest and smallest of the girls, but she rode her little horse as though she were a part of it.

"Don't sit too closely in your saddle," Maud Warren leaned over and spoke patronizingly to Barbara.

"Thank you!" Bab replied.

The girls were now riding swiftly across the meadow.

Ralph, Hugh, Ruth, Mollie and Grace left their places and hurried down to the fence that inclosed the riding ring.

At the first fence two of the horses refused to jump. The other four sprang easily over the bars.

By the rules of the contest, the girls were not allowed to urge their horses, so the two riders went quietly back.

At the second hurdle, another horse faltered. This left the riding contest to Bab, Maud Warren, and a Lenox girl, Bertha Brokaw.

Barbara was as gay and happy as possible. She had no thought of fear in riding. Beauty was a splendid little horse accustomed to being ridden across country. The beautiful little animal jumped over the low bars as easily as if she were running along the ground.

Bertha Brokaw was the first of the three girls to go over the third hurdle. Bab was close behind her.

Barbara had just risen in her saddle. "Go it, Beauty!" she whispered, gently.

At this instant, Maud Warren gave a smart cut to her horse and crossed immediately in front of Bab.

Beauty reared on her hind feet. Barbara and the horse swayed an instant in the air.

Miss Stuart rose from the chair where she sat. Mrs. Morton gave a gasp. A sudden terror shook all the spectators. Poor Mollie turned sick and faint. She imagined her beloved Bab crushed beneath a falling horse.

But Barbara was not conscious of anything but Beauty. As her little horse rose trembling on its hind feet Bab remembered to keep her reins slack. With one pull on the horse's tender mouth, she and Beauty would have gone over backwards.

"Steady, Beauty! Steady!" she cried. The horse ceased to tremble, and a moment later stood on all four feet again.

In the meantime Maud Warren had cleared the third fence and was riding across the field. Not a sound of applause followed her. But as Beauty, with Barbara still cool and collected, sprang easily over the hurdle, loud applause rang out.

"Bully for Bab!" cried Ralph, shaking Ruth's hand in his excitement.

"What a trick! I didn't think Maud Warren capable of it," protested Dorothy to her father.

Bertha Brokaw's horse was tired. She did not finish the mile course.

Now again Barbara rode side by side with Miss Warren. Just before the last jump Bab reined in a little. She remembered the Ambassador's instructions. This was only a riding match, not a racing contest. No two girls were allowed to jump a hurdle at the same time.

So Barbara gave Maud Warren the first opportunity to make the jump. But Maud was nervous; she realized she had taken an unfair advantage of Bab. Her horse refused to jump. Bab waited only an instant. Then, urging Beauty on, they rose over their last hurdle like swallows.

Barbara came cantering back to her friends, her cheeks rosy, her eyes shining with delight.

Franz Heller rushed forward with a big bunch of American Beauty roses. Flowers were the only prizes given during the day. Barbara slid down off her horse.

The Ambassador moved forward to shake hands with her; Bab's friends were waving their handkerchiefs; but Bab had eyes for Beauty only. A stable boy had come to lead the horse away.



"Good-bye, you little Beauty!" Bab whispered, with her brown head close to the horse's face. "You are the dearest little horse in the world. Don't I wish you were my very own!"

Ambassador Morton overheard Bab's speech.

"Let me give the horse to you, Miss Thurston," he urged. "It will give me the greatest pleasure, if you will allow it. He ought to belong to you for the pretty piece of riding you did out in the field. Let me congratulate you. Beauty's compliments and mine to the young girl who has been her own riding teacher."

A warm wave of color swept over Barbara's face. "I did not mean you to overhear me, Mr. Morton," she declared. "Forgive me. Of course I couldn't accept your horse. But I do appreciate your kindness. Thank you for lending me Beauty to ride."

Bab took her roses from Mr. Heller and made her way to Miss Stuart.

"Child!" protested Miss Sallie, "sit down! I shall ask your mother never to let you ride a horse again unless you promise never to try to jump over another fence rail. Oh, what I went through, when I thought you were about to fall off that horse!" Miss Stuart raised both hands in horror. "There ought to be a law against riding masters being allowed to teach women to jump over hurdles."

"But the law wouldn't act against Bab, auntie," declared Ruth, who was feeling very vain over Bab's success. "Because, you know, Barbara never took a riding lesson in her life."

In a short time Miss Stuart took her party home.

Ralph and Hugh were to return to New Haven on the night train.

"Miss Sallie," begged Mollie, as they made their way through the crowd, "there is Mr. Winthrop Latham. Do ask him to come to tea with you to-morrow."

"But why, my child?" Miss Sallie naturally inquired.

"Please, ask just him, not his nephew, Reginald. Do, Aunt Sallie, dear. I can't tell you why, now, but I shall explain as soon as we get home."

"Very well, you funny little girl." And Miss Stuart complied with Mollie's request.

Mr. Winthrop Latham promised to call on Miss Stuart and her girls at their hotel the next afternoon at four o'clock.



CHAPTER XXI

EUNICE AND MR. WINTHROP LATHAM

"Ruth, may I go with you to get Eunice?" Mollie Thurston asked next day.

"Certainly, Mollie. Are not the four of us going? We want to bring little Eunice back to the hotel in style. We have had a hard enough time getting hold of her. Her old Indian grandmother would not have let us have the child if it had not been for Naki. The Indian woman seems really to be attached to Ceally and Naki."

"I am going to ask you a weeny little favor, Ruth. I won't tell you why I ask you now; but I will tell you as soon as we are in the automobile. Don't ask Bab to come with us for Eunice," Mollie entreated.

"Don't ask Bab? Why, Mollie!" protested Ruth, in surprise. "Bab's feelings would be dreadfully hurt if I did not ask her."

"No, they won't, Ruth. I have already talked to Aunt Sallie. She told Bab she wanted her to stay in the house this morning. Aunt Sallie thinks Barbara is tired from her ride yesterday."

"Oh, very well, Mollie, I won't urge Bab to come with us, then; though I can't understand why you don't want her along. I shall be glad when you explain the mystery to me," Ruth concluded.

"That is why I wish to drive over with you. Sh! Aunt Sallie is coming. Don't say anything before her."

"Ruth," explained Mollie, as the three girls were hurrying toward Pittsfield in their motor car, "I want to tell you why I did not wish Bab to come along with us to the hospital for Eunice. I don't know what you and Grace may think of me; but I intend to try an experiment."

"An experiment, Mollie!" Grace exclaimed. "What experiment do you intend to try?"

"Well girls," Mollie continued, "do you recall that Bab went driving, a few days ago, with Reginald Latham, Mr. Winthrop Latham and Aunt Sallie?"

Ruth and Grace both nodded.

"And you remember Bab said she was going to discover, on that drive, what connection Eunice had with the Latham family?"

"Yes," Grace assented. "Do hurry on to the point of your story."

"No; you must hear it all over again," Mollie protested. "I want you and Ruth to remember just exactly the story Bab told us. Reginald Latham did not wish the subject of Eunice mentioned before his uncle, because Mr. Winthrop Latham's oldest brother had married an Indian girl. It seems the brother met the Indian girl while he was studying the history of the Indians in this neighborhood; so he just married her without mentioning the fact to his family. Of course the Lathams, who were very rich and very distinguished, were heart-broken over the marriage. And I guessed they were not any too good to the poor little Indian woman, when Mr. William Latham brought her back to his home to live. As soon as her husband died, she ran away to her own people. When Mr. Winthrop Latham tried to find her some time afterwards, to give her her husband's property, it seems that the Indian wife was dead. At any rate Reginald declares this to be the case. From that day to this, the Latham family never speak of anything that even relates to Indians." Mollie ended her speech in a slightly scornful tone.

"Why, Mollie, don't you think that is a good enough explanation of Reginald Latham's attitude toward Eunice?" Ruth asked.

"I most certainly do not!" Miss Mollie replied. "And how do you explain the Indian squaw's feeling against the name of Latham?"

"Oh, Bab told us, Reginald explained all that to her, too. It seems that the Indians in this vicinity believed poor little Mrs. Latham had been persecuted by her husband's family. So, if this old squaw ever heard the story, Latham would be an evil name to her," Grace put in.

Mistress Mollie shrugged her shoulders. "I think that story is very unlikely. But, maybe, you believe it, just as Bab did. All I ask of you is—just be on the look-out to-day! I have been doing a little detective work myself. I do not agree with Bab's explanation. I told you I was going to try an experiment, and I want you to help me. Then maybe, I can convince you, Bab, and Aunt Sallie of something that I believe! I am sure our little Indian Eunice has a closer connection with the Latham family than any of you dream!"

"Dear me, but you are interesting, Mollie!" interrupted Ruth. "I have a suspicion of what you mean. But go ahead, little Miss Sherlock Holmes! We are with you to the end. We shall be delighted to render any humble assistance necessary to your detective work."

"I only want you to watch developments this afternoon, girls!" Mollie asserted mysteriously. "Later on, there may be some real work for us to do. So far, I have planned everything myself."

"Well, Mollie, you are a nice one!" laughed Grace. "Kindly 'put us on,' as the saying goes. What have you planned?"

"Nothing but a meeting between Eunice and Mr. Winthrop Latham," Mollie responded. "We are to take Eunice to the hotel to spend the day with us. She will be looking her best in the lovely clothes Ruth sent to her. And she has grown almost fair from her weeks in the hospital. Mr. Winthrop Latham is to have tea with us this afternoon. I asked Aunt Sallie to invite nobody but him. I shall bring Eunice quietly in, introduce her to Mr. Latham: then we shall see what happens! I did not wish to tell Bab my plan," Mollie continued, "because she might make me give it up. But I believe Aunt Sallie agrees with me, though she did give me a scolding for having a suspicious nature! She declared, this morning, that it would be very well to have Mr. Winthrop Latham see Eunice. So just let's wait, and watch with all our eyes this afternoon."

"Bully for your experiment, Mollie!" nodded Grace. Ruth bowed her head to show how fully she agreed with both of the girls.

A pretty hospital nurse brought Eunice out to Ruth's motor car. The child had on a soft ecru dress, cut low at the throat and simply made. She wore a brown coat, lined with scarlet, and a big brown felt hat with a scarf knotted loosely around it.

And Eunice looked very lovely! Her hair was braided in two plaits, tied with soft scarlet ribbons. Her eyes were big and black with the excitement of entering a strange world. Her complexion was now only a little darker than olive. Her cheeks were like two scarlet flames.

Eunice hugged Mollie close, once she was seated in the automobile. When the big car started, she laughed gleefully, clapping her hands as she cried. "It is truly a red bird, that carries us on its wings!" She remembered what Ruth had told her.

"Always Eunice has longed for wings like the birds!" Eunice whispered softly to Mollie. "Now, behold! We are almost flying!"

"Look overhead, Mollie, Eunice, Ruth!" called Grace suddenly.

The four girls looked up.

A great white object sailed above them.

Eunice clutched Mollie. "Is it the great white spirit, my grandmother has told me about?" she inquired.

"Oh, that is Reginald Latham in his airship," Mollie explained to Grace. "He said the rudder of Mr. Latham's balloon had been mended. He meant to try some short flights to see if it was all right."

"But I do not understand!" Eunice protested. "Is a man riding on that great, great big bird?"

"Yes, Eunice," Mollie assented. "But that object above our heads is an airship, not a bird."

"Then I wish to ride in an airship," Eunice murmured. "It flies up in the air like a real bird. This car runs only along the earth." The child was no longer impressed with the automobile. Reginald Latham's airship was the most marvelous thing she had ever beheld.

After arriving at their hotel "The Automobile Girls" showed Eunice everything they could find to amuse her. They rode up and down with her in the elevator. They gave her a peep into the hotel's splendid reception rooms. Poor little Eunice was in a daze! She wandered about like a child in a dream. Every now and then she would ask Mollie some question in regard to Reginald Latham's airship. She had not forgotten it.

Miss Stuart wisely had luncheon served in the private sitting-room. She did not think it best for Eunice to be seen by so many people; besides, she did not know how Eunice would behave at the table.

To Miss Sallie's unspeakable relief the child had learned at the hospital to eat with a knife and fork. Her manners were those of a frightened child. She was neither noisy nor vulgar.

"The child is certainly an enigma!" Miss Stuart said to herself, half a dozen times during the morning. "What the doctor says is true! The child is almost refined. It is marvelous! In spite of her ignorance, she does nothing to offend one!"

After luncheon, Miss Stuart noticed that Eunice looked white and exhausted. The scarlet color had faded from her cheeks and lips. The little girl was not strong enough for so much excitement after her recent illness.

"Mollie," Miss Sallie suggested, about half-past two o'clock, "take Eunice to your room. Give her a dressing gown, and see that she rests for an hour or so. You may stay with the child, Mollie, for fear she may be frightened, but you other girls keep away. The child is worn out. Mollie, you may bring her back to us at tea-time."

Mollie agreed. She guessed that Miss Sallie was furthering her idea about the experiment.

"Remember, Bab, you have promised me to be here at tea-time," Mollie reminded her sister.

"Certainly, I shall be here, Mollie. Did you think I was going away?"

Mollie then took Eunice away to lie down.

The child was so tired she soon fell asleep on Mollie's bed.

Mollie sat thinking quietly by the darkened window. She had taken a deep fancy to little Eunice, who had seemed to cling to her since their first strange meeting.

Barbara and Mollie Thurston were both unusually thoughtful girls. Their mother's devoted companions for years, their poverty had made them understand more of life. Mollie realized it would not do for Eunice to grow up ignorant and wild, with only her old grandmother for a companion. The little Indian was already thirsting for a different life. And, some day, the grandmother would die. What would then become of Eunice?

A little before four o'clock Eunice awakened, having slept nearly two hours. She was refreshed and happy again.

Mollie made Eunice bathe her face. She herself fixed the child's hair, now smooth and glossy from the care that the nurses at the hospital had given to it.

"We will go back to see our friends now, Eunice," explained Mollie.

Eunice nodded. "It is wonderful here where you live!" she declared. "Sometimes I think I have dreamed of people like you and your friends. I think I have seen things like what you have here in this house. But how could I dream of what I knew nothing?"

Mollie shook her head thoughtfully. "Eunice, dear, you will have to ask a wiser person than I am about your dreams. Who knows what may be stored away in that little head of yours? Come, dear, let us put your gold chain on the outside of your dress. There can be no harm in that. I think Miss Sallie, the lady with the white hair, would like to look at it."

Eunice, who had a girl's fancy for pretty ornaments, was glad to have Mollie pull the chain out from under her dress. The curious, beautiful ornament shone glittering and lovely against the light background formed by the child's dress.

"Wait for me here, Eunice," requested Mollie. "I want to go into the other room for a minute."

Mollie peeped inside the sitting-room door.

Mr. Winthrop Latham was cosily drinking his tea in the best of humor. He had a decided liking for Miss Stuart and her "Automobile Girls."

Bab was joking with Mr. Latham as she plied him with sandwiches and cakes.

For half a minute Mollie's heart misgave her. She was afraid to try her experiment.



"Good gracious!" she thought, finally, "what possible harm can it do Mr. Winthrop Latham to look at poor, pretty little Eunice? If the child means nothing to him, he will not even notice her. If she turns out to be the child I believe she is, why, then—then—it is only right that her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham, should know of her existence."

"Come, now, Eunice!" cried Mollie. "Come into the sitting-room with me. The girls have some pretty cakes and sweet things they are saving for you."

Mollie took Eunice's hand. The two girls were nearly of the same size and age. They quietly walked into the sitting-room.

"Where is 'Automobile Girl' number four?" Mollie heard Mr. Latham ask, just as the two girls entered the room.

"Here I am!" Mollie replied.

Mr. Latham glanced up. His ruddy face turned white as chalk.

Mollie never took her eyes from Mr. Latham's face. Miss Stuart, Bab, Grace and Ruth stared at him.

But Mr. Latham did not notice any one of them. His jaw dropped. The cup in his hand trembled. Still he did not speak.

Barbara broke the silence. "Mr. Latham, are you ill?" she asked. "May I take your teacup from you?"

Mr. Latham shook his head. He continued to gaze steadily at Eunice.

Little Eunice was frightened by the strange man's stare. She trembled. Her rosebud lips quivered. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Come to me, Eunice," Ruth called comfortingly. "See the candies I have been saving for you! Mr. Latham, this is the little Indian girl who was hurt. You remember that we have spoken of her before?"

"Will some one take the child away?" Mr. Latham asked, brokenly.

Mollie led Eunice back to her bedroom. Then she hurried in again to rejoin the others.

"Miss Stuart, I owe you and your girls an explanation for my strange conduct," Mr. Latham declared. "I feel, this afternoon, that I have seen a ghost! I do not understand this Indian child's likeness to my dead sister-in-law. I must seek an explanation somewhere. This little Eunice is the living image of my brother's Indian wife—the poor girl whom our cruelty drove from our home back to the tents of her own people to die. I was told that her little child died with her. There is a mystery here that must be solved. If this little girl is the daughter of my brother and his Indian wife, one-half of my fortune belongs to her."

"Mr. Latham," Miss Stuart quietly interrupted him, "this Indian child has an old grandmother who will be able to tell you whether this child has any connection with you. I have always thought there must be some explanation. The squaw has kept the child hidden for a purpose."

"You are right, Miss Stuart," Mr. Latham interrupted. "You tell me this child's name is Eunice? Eunice was the name of my brother's wife. It is also the Christian name for the female Indians of a certain tribe, but there is little doubt, in my mind, of this girl's identity. The gold chain about her throat was my brother's gift to his wife. That chain has the story of my brother's love and courtship engraved on it in Indian characters. But I am too much upset to discuss the matter any further to-day. When can I see the Indian grandmother?"

"To-morrow," Miss Stuart replied quietly. "I would not advise you to delay."

"Will you go with me to see her at ten o'clock to-morrow morning, Miss Stuart?" queried Mr. Latham.

"Certainly," Miss Sallie agreed.

"I beg of you then not to mention what has taken place in this room this afternoon," Mr. Latham urged. "When we know the truth in regard to this child it will be time to tell the strange story. Good-bye until to-morrow morning."

"Mollie," Bab cried as soon as the door closed on Mr. Latham, "I surrender. And I humbly beg your pardon. You are a better detective than I am. What is the discovery of the Boy Raffles compared with your bringing to light the family history of poor little Eunice! Just think, instead of being a poor, despised Indian girl, Eunice is heiress to a large fortune."

"Then you believe in me now, Bab!" Mollie rejoined. "I have always thought Eunice was in some way connected with the Latham family."

"Girls," Miss Stuart cautioned quietly, "when you take Eunice to her grandmother, at Naki's house, say nothing. Remember, you are to speak to no one of what happened this afternoon."



CHAPTER XXII

THE AUTOMOBILE WINS

Immediately after breakfast, next morning, "The Automobile Girls" started in Ruth's car for Naki's house in Pittsfield.

Miss Stuart had decided that it would be best to have Eunice out of the way when she and Mr. Latham made their call on the grandmother.

So the girls hurried off after Eunice.

They were in splendid spirits as they approached Naki's house. No one of them doubted, for an instant, that Mr. Winthrop Latham would find little Eunice was his niece.

"You run in and ask the grandmother whether Eunice may take a ride with us, Mollie," Ruth suggested as she stopped her car. "If Naki is at home, ask him to step out here a minute. I want to prepare him for the call of Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham."

In three minutes Mollie flew out of the house again. She was alone. There was no sign of Eunice!

"O girls!" Mollie cried, "Eunice and her grandmother are gone!"

"Gone where?" Bab queried.

"Back to their own wigwam!" Mollie continued. "Last night Ceally says a woman, heavily veiled, came here, accompanied by a young man. They talked to the Indian woman and Eunice a long time. They told the squaw a man was in pursuit of her. He would come this morning to take her away. She was so frightened that Naki and Ceally could do nothing to influence her. She started with Eunice, last night, for their wigwam in the hills. Who do you think her visitors were?"

"Mrs. Latham and Reginald!" cried the other three girls at once.

"It is all so plain," argued Ruth. "Mr. Latham probably told his sister, last night, that he had seen Eunice, and meant to come here, this morning, and find out who the child really was. Mrs. Latham and Reginald then rushed here to get the squaw and the child out of the way until they could have time to plan."

"But what shall we do now?" asked Mollie, her eyes full of tears. "I do not believe Mrs. Latham and Reginald will be content with sending Eunice and her grandmother back to their own hill. Mr. Latham could follow them up there. I know they will try to spirit Eunice away altogether. They will not wait. Oh, what, what can we do?"

"I know," Ruth answered quietly.

"Have you any money, girls?" she inquired. "I have twenty-five dollars with me."

"I have twenty with me," Grace replied. "I have ten," declared Bab. "And I have only five," Mollie answered.

"Then we are all right for money," said Ruth. "Naki," she continued, turning to their guide, who had now come out to them, "I want you to give this note to Aunt Sallie and Mr. Latham when they come here. It will explain all. Tell them not to worry. I shall send a telegram before night."

Taking a piece of paper from her pocket, Ruth hurriedly wrote a letter of some length.

"Now, let's be off!" Ruth insisted.

"What are you going to do now, Ruth Stuart?" Mollie demanded.

"Why, what can we do," Ruth replied, "except go straight up to the wigwam for Eunice and run away with her before anyone else can."

"Run away with her!" faltered Grace.

"What else can we do?" queried Ruth. "If we delay in getting Eunice out of Mrs. Latham's and Reginald's clutches, they will place the child where no one can ever find her. Mrs. Latham will then persuade her brother to give up his search. We must save Eunice."

"But what will Aunt Sallie say?" cried Barbara.

"I have written Aunt Sallie," Ruth explained, "that we would take Eunice to a nearby town. We can telegraph Aunt Sallie from there."

"But, suppose, Ruth," Grace suggested, "the Indian grandmother will not let Eunice go with us."

"Never mind, Grace," Bab retorted, "'The Automobile Girls' must overcome obstacles. I believe the old grandmother will let Eunice come with us, if we tell her the whole story. We must explain that Mr. Winthrop Latham wants to see Eunice in order to be kind to her and not to harm her, and ask the squaw if Eunice is Mr. William Latham's child. We must make her understand that Mrs. Latham and Reginald are her enemies, we are her friends——"

"Is that all, Bab?" laughed Grace. "It sounds simple."

"Never mind," Mollie now broke in to the conversation, "I believe I can somehow explain matters to Mother Eunice."

By noon "The Automobile Girls" were halfway up the hill that led to the wigwam.

Mollie, who was walking ahead, heard a low sound like a sob. Crouched under a tree, several yards away, was little Eunice. At the sight of Mollie she ran forward. A few feet from her she stopped. A look of distrust crossed her face.

"Why did you come here?" she asked in her old wild fashion.

"Why, Eunice," Mollie asked quietly, "are you not glad to see your friends?"

At first, Eunice shook her head. Then she flung her arms around Mollie's neck. "I want to give you that strange thing you called a kiss," she said. "I am so glad to see you that my heart sings. But grandmother told me you meant to sell me to the strange man, who looked at me so curiously yesterday. So I came back up the hill with her. You would not sell me, would you? You are my friends?"

"Look into my eyes, Eunice," Mollie whispered. "Do I look as though I meant to harm you? You told me once that if you could see straight into the eyes of the creatures in the woods you would know whether their hearts were good. Is my heart good?"

"Yes, yes!" Eunice cried. "Forgive me."

"But we want you to have a great deal of faith in us, Eunice," Mollie persisted. "We want you to go away with us this very afternoon. Take us to your grandmother. We must ask her consent."

Eunice shook her head. "I cannot go," she declared, finally.

"But, Eunice, if you will only go with us, you can buy more pretty gold chains. You can buy beads and Indian blankets for your grandmother," coaxed Grace. "Who knows? Some day you may even own a big, red bird like Ruth's, and fly like 'The Automobile Girls.'"

Still Eunice shook her head.

"But you will come with us, if your grandmother says you may?" Ruth urged.

"No," Eunice declared. "I cannot."

"Why, Eunice?" Mollie queried gently.

"Because," said Eunice, "to-day I fly up in the sky!" The child pointed over her head.

"Why, the child is mad from her illness and the fatigue of her long walk up here," Grace ejaculated in distress.

But Eunice laughed happily. "To-day I fly like the birds, high overhead. Long have I wished to go up into the big blue heaven away over the trees and the hilltops. To-day I shall fly away, truly!"

The girls stared at Eunice in puzzled wonder. They could understand nothing of the strange tale she told them. Was the child dreaming?

A light dawned upon Mollie.

"Girls!" Mollie cried, "Reginald Latham is going to take Eunice off in his airship!"

"Can it be possible?" Bab exclaimed.

"Eunice," asked Mollie, "are you going for a ride in the big balloon I showed you yesterday as we rode away from the hospital?"

"Yes," Eunice declared. "Last night the young man who came to Naki's house talked with me. He whispered to me, that if I were good and did not tell my grandmother, he would take me to ride with him in his great ship of the winds. But he will bring me home to my own wigwam to-night. I will go with you in your carriage to-morrow. Now, I wait for the man to find me. He told me to meet him here, away from my grandmother's far-seeing eyes."

"Eunice," Mollie commanded firmly, "come with me to your wigwam."

"But you will tell my grandmother! Then she will not let me fly away!" Eunice cried.

"You cannot fly with Reginald Latham, Eunice," Mollie asserted. "He will not bring you back again to the wigwam. He will leave you in some strange town, away from your own people. You will never see your grandmother. You will never see us again!"

Eunice, trembling, followed the other girls to the wigwam.

"I believe," Bab said thoughtfully as they walked on, "that Reginald Latham planned to get Eunice away from this place forever. He did not mean to injure her. He would probably have put her in some school far away. But Mr. Winthrop Latham would never have seen her. Eunice would not then take half of the Latham fortune from Reginald. Just think! Who could ever trace a child carried away in an airship? She might be searched for if she went in trains or carriages, but no one but the birds could know of her flight through the air."

The old grandmother heard "The Automobile Girls" approaching.

She was standing in front of a blazing fire. With a grunt of rage, the old woman seized a flaming pine torch and ran straight at Mollie.

"Put that down!" commanded Barbara, hotly. "You are a stupid old woman. We have come to save Eunice for you. Unless you listen to us she will be stolen from you this very afternoon. You will never see her again. There is no use in your trying to hide Eunice any longer. We know and her uncle knows, that she is the child of your daughter and of Mr. William Latham. You told Mr. Winthrop Latham that Eunice died when her mother did." Barbara had depended on her imagination for the latter part of her speech, but she knew, now, that she had guessed the truth.

Under her brown leather-like skin the old squaw turned pale.

Then Mollie explained gently to the old woman that Mrs. Latham and Reginald were Eunice's enemies; that they wished to be rid of Eunice so that they might inherit her father's money. She told of Reginald Latham's plan to carry Eunice away that afternoon.

"Now, Mother Eunice," Mollie ended, "won't you let little Eunice go away with us this afternoon, instead? We will take good care of her, and will bring her home to you in a few days. But Eunice must see her uncle, Mr. Winthrop Latham. You will not stand in the way of little Eunice's happiness, I know!" Mollie laid her hand on the old squaw's arm.

But the squaw had bowed her head. She did not notice Mollie.

"It is the end!" The old woman spoke to herself. "I give up my child. The white blood is stronger than the Indian. She will return to the race of her father. Her mother's people shall know her no more."

"May Eunice go away with us now?" Ruth urged. "And won't you go down to the village, and stay with Naki and Ceally until Eunice comes back?"

"Take the child, when you will," assented the Indian woman. "She is mine no longer."

"Then come, hurry, Eunice. We must be off," Bab cried.

Eunice got her new coat and hat. Then she flung her arms around her grandmother, and kissed her in the way Mollie had taught her.

The old Indian woman hugged the child to her for one brief instant; then she relaxed her hold and went back into her wigwam.

"The Automobile Girls" and Eunice ran down the hill.

In half an hour they found "Mr. A. Bubble." He was patiently awaiting their return.

"Jump into the car in a hurry," Ruth cried. "Put Eunice in the middle. We have a long distance to travel before night falls."

The girls leaped into the automobile. It sped away through the autumnal woods.

"Look, do look up above us!" Mollie exclaimed.

Away above their heads something white sailed and circled in the air.

"It is Reginald Latham in his airship," cried Grace.

"Well, Mr. Reginald Latham," laughed Mollie, "an airship may do the business of the future; but for present purposes I'll bet on the automobile."

For hours "The Automobile Girls" drove steadily on. The roads were well marked with signposts. Ruth wished to make a nearby town away from the main line of travel.

At dusk they arrived in North Adams.

Ruth drove at once to a telegraph office, where she telegraphed to Miss Sallie: "Safe in North Adams with Eunice. Had a fine trip. Expect you and Mr. Latham in the morning. All is well. Do not worry. Ruth."

Ruth and her friends put up at the Wilson House in North Adams. They explained to the hotel proprietor that they were staying in Lenox. Their aunt would join them the next day.

Five weary girls slept the sleep of the just.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE RECOGNITION

Miss Stuart and Mr. Winthrop Latham did not arrive in North Adams the next morning.

A little before noon, Miss Sallie telegraphed to Ruth: "Must see Indian woman before we join you. Proof of child's identity required. Wait."

Ruth showed her telegram to the girls.

Barbara shook her head. "More of the work of Mrs. Latham and Reginald," she suggested.

Soon after the receipt of Ruth's telegram, the afternoon before, Miss Stuart telephoned Mr. Winthrop Latham, "Will you please come to the hotel to see me immediately?"

Now, Miss Sallie realized her difficult position. How was she to protect the interests of Eunice without accusing Mr. Latham's relatives of evil designs against the child?

She called up Naki in Pittsfield and told him to come to her hotel that evening. "Naki can tell Mr. Latham what I cannot," Miss Sallie reflected. "He can report the visit of Mrs. Latham and Reginald to the Indian squaw, and can make Mr. Latham see his sister's intentions."

Mr. Latham arrived first for the interview with Miss Stuart. He looked worn and tired.

"My 'Automobile Girls' have run off with Eunice!" Miss Stuart at once informed him.

"Why should there be any running away with the child?" Mr. Latham asked impatiently. "I could very easily have gone up to the wigwam in the morning. I think, in many respects, it will be wisest to see the Indian woman and child on their own ground. To tell you the truth, Miss Stuart, I shall require positive proofs that this Indian girl is the child that my brother's Indian wife carried away from our home years ago."

"Certainly, Mr. Latham," Miss Stuart replied quietly. "I entirely agree with you; but I think it may be possible to secure such proofs."