CHAPTER IV
BILBY
The old, shingled Red Mill, which Jabez Potter had revamped each springwith mineral paint, was as brilliant a landmark on the bank of the LumanoRiver as ever it had been. In fact, it seemed as though Ben, the hiredman, had got the red of the shingles and the trim a little redder and theblinds a little greener this last spring than ever they had been before.
Overshadowed by great elms, with the yard grass growing thick and lushright up to the bark of the trees, the surroundings of the mill andfarmhouse connected with it (at least, all of those surroundings thatcould be seen from the Cheslow road), were attractive indeed.
Although the old house seemed quite as it always had been from without,many changes had been made inside since first Ruth Fielding had steppedout of Dr. Davison's chaise to approach her great-uncle's habitation.
At that time Ruth had been less than a mote in the eye of Uncle Jabez.She was merely an annoyance to the miller at that time. Since then,however, she had many and many a time proved a blessing to him. Nor didJabez Potter refuse to acknowledge this--on occasion.
When Ruth began to do over the interior of the old house, however, UncleJabez protested. The house and mill had been built a hundred and fiftyyears before--if not longer ago. It was sacrilege to touch a crookedrafter or a hammered nail of the entire structure.
But Ruth insisted that she be allowed to make her own rooms under theroof more comfortable and modern. Ruth had seen old New Englandfarmhouses rebuilt in the most attractive way one could imagine withoutdisturbing their ancient exterior appearance. She gathered ideas frombooks and magazines, and then went about replanning the entire inside ofthe mill farmhouse. But she began the actual rejuvenation of the aspectof the structure in her own rooms, and had had all the work done sinceher return from the war zone the year before.
She now had a bedroom, a sitting room, a dressing room and bathroom upunder the roof, all in white (Helen said "like a hospital"), and when oneopened Ruth's outer door and stepped into her suite it seemed as thoughone entered an entirely different house. And if it was a girl whoentered--as Wonota, the Osage princess, did on a certain June day soonafter Jennie Stone's marriage--she could not suppress a cry of delight.
Wonota had stayed before at the Red Mill for a time; but then the workmenhad not completed Ruth's new nest. And although Wonota had been born in awigwam on the plains and had spent her childhood in a log cabin with aturf roof, she could appreciate "pretty things" quite as keenly as anygirl of Ruth's acquaintance.
That was why Ruth--as well as Mr. Hammond of the Alectrion FilmCorporation--believed that the Indian girl would in time become asuccessful screen actress. Wonota, though her skin was copper-colored,liked to dress in up-to-date clothes (and did so) and enjoyed therefinements of civilization as much as any white girl of her age.
"It is so pretty here, Miss Ruth," she said to her mentor. "May I sleepin the other bed off your sitting room? It is sweet of you. How foolishof people wanting to see on the screen how poor Indians live in theirignorance. I would rather learn to play the part of a very rich New Yorklady, and have servants and motor-cars and go to the opera and wear adiamond necklace."
Ruth laughed at her, but good-naturedly.
"All girls are the same, I suppose, under the skin," she said. "But weeach should try to do the things we can do best. Learn to play the partsthe director assigns you to the very best of your ability. Doing thatwill bring you, quicker than anything else, to the point where you canwear diamonds and ride in your own motor-car and go to the opera. Whatdoes your father, Chief Totantora, say to your new ideas, Wonota?"
"The chief, my father, says nothing when I talk like that to him. He istoo much of an old-fashioned Indian, I fear. He is staying at a countryhotel up the road; but he would not sleep in the room they gave him (andthen he rolled up in his blanket on the floor) until they agreed to lethim take out the sashes from all three windows. He says that white peoplehave white faces because they sleep in stale air."
"Perhaps he is more than half right," rejoined Ruth, although she laughedtoo. "Some white folks even in this age are afraid of the outdoor air asa sleeping tonic, and prefer to drug themselves with shut-in air in theirbedrooms."
"But one can have pretty things and nice things, and still remain inhealth," sighed Wonota.
Ruth agreed with this. The girl of the Red Mill tried, too, in every wayto encourage the Indian maiden to learn and profit by the better thingsto be gained by association with the whites.
There were several days to wait before Mr. Hammond was ready to send Mr.Hooley, the director, and the company selected for the making of Ruth'snew picture to the Thousand Islands. Meanwhile Ruth herself had manypreparations to make and she could not be all the time with her visitor.
As in that past time when she had visited the Red Mill, Wonota wasusually content to sit with Aunt Alvirah and make beadwork while the oldwoman knitted.
"She's a contented creeter, my pretty," the old woman said to Ruth. "Redor white, I never see such a quiet puss. And she jumps and runs to waiton me like you do.
"Oh, my back! and oh, my bones!" exclaimed Aunt Alvirah, risingcautiously with the aid of a cane she now depended upon. "My rheumatismdon't seem any better, and I have had it long enough, seems to me, for itto get better," she added.
"Poor dear!" said Ruth. "Don't the new medicine do any good?"
"Lawsy me, child! I've drenched myself with doctor's stuff till I'mashamed to look a medicine bottle in the face. My worn out old carcasscan't be helped much by any drugs at all. I guess, as my poor old motherused to say, the only sure cure for rheumatics is graveyard mould."
"Oh, Aunt Alvirah!"
"I don't say it complainingly," declared the little old woman, smilingquite cheerfully. "But I tell Jabez Potter he might as well make up hismind to seeing my corner of his hearth empty one of these days. And he'llmiss me, too, cantankerous as he is sometimes."
But Uncle Jabez was seldom "cantankerous" nowadays when Ruth was at home.To the miller's mind his great-niece had proved herself to be of the truePotter blood, although her name was Fielding.
Ruth was a money-maker. He had to wink pretty hard over the fact that shewas likewise a money spender! But one girl--and a young one atthat--could scarcely be expected (and so the old miller admitted) tocombine all the virtues which were worth while in human development.
"Keep a-making of it, Niece Ruth," Uncle Jabez advised earnestly. "Younever can tell when you are going to want more or when your ability tomake money is going to stop. I'd sell the Red Mill or give up and nevergrind another grist for nobody, if I didn't feel that perhaps by nextyear I should have to stop, anyway--and another year won't much matter."
"You get so little pleasure out of life, Uncle Jabez," Ruth once said inanswer to this statement of the old man.
"Shucks! Don't you believe it. I don't know no better fun than watchingthe corn in the hopper or the stuns go round and round while the mealflour runs out of the spout below, warm and nice-smellin'. The millin'business is just as pretty a business as there is in the world--when onceyou git used to the dust. No doubt of it."
"I can see, Uncle Jabez, that you find it so," said Ruth, but ratherdoubtfully.
"Of course it is," said the old man stoutly. "You get fun out of runningabout the country and looking at things and seeing how other folks liveand work. And that's all right for you. _You_ make money out of it. Butwhat would I get out of gadding about?"
"A broader outlook on life, Uncle Jabez."
"I don't want no broader outlook. I don't need nothing of the kind. Nordoes Alviry Boggs, though she's got to talking a dreadful lot latelyabout wanting to ride around in an automobile. At her age, too!"
"You should own a car, Uncle Jabez," urged Ruth.
"Now, stop that! Stop that, Niece Ruth! I won't hear to no suchfoolishness. You show me how I can make money riding up and down theLumano in a pesky motor-car, and maybe I'll do like Alviry wants me to,and buy one of the contraptions
." "Hullo, now!" added the millersuddenly. "Who might this be?"
Ruth turned to see one of the very motor-cars that Uncle Jabez so scorned(or pretended to) stopping before the wide door of the mill itself.
But as it was the man driving the roadster, rather than the car itself,Uncle Jabez had spoken of, Ruth gave her attention to him. He was aruddy, tubby little man in a pin-check black and white suit, faced withsilk on lapels and pockets--it really gave him a sort of minstrel-likeappearance as though he should likewise have had his face corked--and hewore in a puffed maroon scarf a stone that flashed enough for half adozen ordinary diamonds--whether it really was of the first water or not.
This man hopped out from back of the wheel of the roadster and camebriskly up the graveled rise from the road to the door of the mill. Hefavored Ruth with a side glance and half smile that the girl of the RedMill thought (she had seen plenty of such men) revealed his charactervery clearly. But he spoke to Uncle Jabez.
"I say, Pop, is this the place they call the Red Mill?"
"I calkerlate it is," agreed the miller dryly. "Leastways, it's the onlyRed Mill I ever heard tell on."
"I reckoned I'd got to the right dump," said the visitor cheerfully. "Iunderstand there's an Injun girl stopping here? Is that so?"
Uncle Jabez glanced at Ruth and got her permission to speak before heanswered:
"I don't know as it's any of your business, Mister; but the PrincessWonota, of the Osage Nation, is stopping here just now. What might beyour business with her?"
"So she calls herself a 'princess' does she?" returned the man, grinningagain at Ruth in an offensive way. "Well, I have managed a South SeaIsland chief, a pair of Circassian twins, and a bunch of Eskimos, in mytime. I guess I know how to act in the presence of Injun royalty. Trother out."
"Trot who out?" asked the miller calmly, but with eyes that flashed underhis penthouse brows. "Wonota ain't no horse. Did you think she was?"
"I know what she is," returned the man promptly. "It's what she is goingto be that interests me. I'm Bilby--Horatio Bilby. Maybe you've heard ofme?"
"I have," said Ruth rather sharply.
At once Mr. Bilby's round, dented, brown hat came off and he bowedprofoundly.
"Happy to make your acquaintance, Miss," he said.
"You haven't made it yet--near as I can calkerlate," gruffly said UncleJabez. "And it's mebbe a question if you get much acquainted with Wonota.What's your business with her, anyway?"
"I'll show you, old gent," said Bilby, taking a number of importantlooking papers from his pocket. "I have come here to get this princess,as you call her. The Indian Department has sent me. She is a ward of theGovernment, as you perhaps know. It seems she is held under a false formof contract to a moving picture corporation, and Wonota's friends haveapplied to the Bureau of Indian Affairs to look into the matter and getat the rights of the business."
Ruth uttered a cry of amazement; but Uncle Jabez said calmly enough:
"And what have you got to do with it all, Mister--if I may be so curiousas to ask?"
"The girl is given into my charge while her affairs are being lookedinto," said Mr. Horatio Bilby, with an explanatory flourish whichincluded both the miller and Ruth in its sweeping gesture.
Ruth Fielding on the St. Lawrence; Or, The Queer Old Man of the Thousand Islands Page 4
