THE SARCEE CAMP
The sun had reached the peaks of the Rockies far in the west, touching their white with red, and all the lesser peaks and all the rounded hills between with great splashes of gold and blue and purple.It is the sunset and the sunrise that make the foothill country a world of mystery and of beauty, a world to dream about and long for in later days.
Through this mystic world of gold and blue and purple drove Cameron and his wife, on their way to the little town of Calgary, three days after the ruthless burning of their home.As the sun dipped behind the western peaks they reached the crossing of the Elbow and entered the wide Bow Valley, upon whose level plain was situated the busy, ambitious and would-be wicked little pioneer town.The town and plain lay bathed in a soft haze of rosy purple that lent a kind of Oriental splendor to the tawdry, unsightly cluster of shacks that sprawled here and there in irregular bunches on the prairie.
"What a picture it makes!" cried Mandy."How wonderful this great plain with its encircling rivers, those hills with the great peaks beyond! What a site for a town!""There is no finer," replied her husband, "anywhere in the world that I know, unless it be that of 'Auld Reekie.'""Meaning?"
"Meaning!" he echoed indignantly."What else but the finest of all the capitals of Europe?""London?" inquired Mandy.
"London!" echoed her husband contemptuously."You ignorant Colonial! Edinburgh, of course.But this is perfectly splendid,"he continued."I never get used to the wonder of Calgary.You see that deep cut between those peaks in the far west? That is where 'The Gap' lies, through which the Bow flows toward us.A great site this for a great town some day.But you ought to see these peaks in the morning with the sunlight coming up from the east across the foothills and falling upon them.Whoa, there! Steady, Pepper!" he cried to the broncho, which owed its name to the speckled appearance of its hide, and which at the present moment was plunging and kicking at a dog that had rushed out from an Indian encampment close by the trail."Did you never see an Indian dog before?""Oh, Allan," cried Mandy with a shudder, "do you know I can't bear to look at an Indian since last week, and I used to like them.""Hardly fair, though, to blame the whole race for the deviltry of one specimen.""I know that, but--"
"This is a Sarcee camp, I fancy.They are a cunning lot and not the most reliable of the Indians.Let me see--three--four teepees.
Ought to be fifteen or twenty in that camp.Only squaws about.
The braves apparently are in town painting things up a bit."A quarter of a mile past the Indian encampment the trail made a sharp turn into what appeared to be the beginning of the main street of the town.
"By Jove!" cried Cameron."Here they come.Sit tight, Mandy." He pointed with his whip down the trail to what seemed to be a rolling cloud of dust, vocal with wild whoops and animated with plunging figures of men and ponies.
"Steady, there, boys! Get on!" cried Cameron to his plunging, jibing bronchos, who were evidently unwilling to face that rolling cloud of dust with its mass of shrieking men and galloping ponies thundering down upon them.Swift and fierce upon their flanks fell the hissing lash."Stand up to them, you beggars!" he shouted to his bronchos, which seemed intent upon turning tail and joining the approaching cavalcade."Hie, there! Hello! Look out!" he yelled, standing up in his wagon, waving his whip and holding his bronchos steadily on the trail.The next moment the dust cloud enveloped them and the thundering cavalcade, parting, surged by on either side.Cameron was wild with rage.
"Infernal cheeky brutes!" he cried."For two shillings I'd go back and break some of their necks.Ride me down, would they?" he continued, grinding his teeth in fury.
He pulled up his bronchos with half a mind to turn them about and pursue the flying Indians.His experience and training with the Mounted Police made it difficult for him to accept with equal mind what he called the infernal cheek of a bunch of Indians.At the entreaties of his wife, however, he hesitated in carrying his purpose into effect.
"Let them go," said Mandy."They didn't hurt us, after all.""Didn't? No thanks to them.They might have killed you.Well, Ishall see about this later." He gave his excited bronchos their head and sailed into town, drawing up in magnificent style at the Royal Hotel.
An attendant in cowboy garb came lounging up.
"Hello, Billy!" cried Cameron."Still blooming?""Sure! And rosebuds ain't in it with you, Colonel." Billy was from the land of colonels."You've got a whole garden with you this trip, eh?""My wife, Billy," replied Cameron, presenting her.
Billy pulled off his Stetson.
"Proud to meet you, madam.Hope I see you well and happy.""Yes, indeed, well and happy," cried Mandy emphatically.
"Sure thing, if looks mean anything," said Billy, admiration glowing in his eyes.
"Take the horses, Billy.They have come a hundred and fifty miles.""Hundred and fifty, eh? They don't look it.But I'll take care of 'em all right.You go right in.""I shall be back presently, Billy," said Cameron, passing into the dingy sitting-room that opened off the bar.
In a few minutes he had his wife settled in a frowsy little eight-by-ten bedroom, the best the hotel afforded, and departed to attend to his team, make arrangements for supper and inquire about the incoming train.The train he found to be three hours late.His team he found in the capable hands of Billy, who was unharnessing and rubbing them down.While ordering his supper a hand gripped his shoulder and a voice shouted in his ear:
"Hello, old sport! How goes it?"
"Martin, old boy!" shouted Cameron in reply."It's awfully good to see you.How did you get here? Oh, yes, of course, I remember.
