"No--not dis side Blood Reserve."
"Eat something, Jerry, then we will talk," said Cameron.
Jerry had already broken his fast, but was ready for more.After the meal was finished he made his report.His report was clear and concise.On leaving Cameron in the morning he had taken the most likely direction to discover traces of the Piegan band, namely that suggested by Cameron, and, fetching a wide circle, had ridden toward the mountains, but he had come upon no sign.Then he had penetrated into the canyon and ridden down toward the entrance, but still had found no trace.He had then ridden backward toward the Piegan Reserve and, picking up a trail of one or two ponies, had followed it till he found it broaden into that of a considerable band making eastward.Then he knew he had found the trail he wanted.
"How many, Jerry?" asked Cameron.
The half-breed held up both hands three times.
"Mebbe more."
"Thirty or forty?" exclaimed Cameron."Any Squaws?
"No."
"Hunting-expedition?"
"No."
"Where were they going?"
"Blood Reserve t'ink--dunno."
Cameron sat smoking in silence.He was completely at a loss.
"Why go to the Bloods?" he asked of Jerry.
"Dunno."
Jerry was not strong in his constructive faculty.His powers were those of observation.
"There is no sense in them going to the Blood Reserve, Jerry," said Cameron impatiently."The Bloods are a pack of thieves, we know, but our people are keeping a close watch on them."Jerry grunted acquiescence.
"There is no big Indian camping ground on the Blood Reserve.You wouldn't get the Blackfeet to go to any pow-wow there."Again Jerry grunted.
"How far did you follow their trail, Jerry?""Two--t'ree mile."
Cameron sat long and smoked.The thing was extremely puzzling.It seemed unlikely that if the Piegan band were going to a rendezvous of Indians they should select a district so closely under the inspection of the Police.Furthermore there was no great prestige attaching to the Bloods to make their reserve a place of meeting.
"Jerry," said Cameron at length, "I believe they are up this Sun Dance Canyon somewhere.""No," said Jerry decisively."No sign--come down mesef." His tone was that of finality.
"I believe, Jerry, they doubled back and came in from the north end after you had left.I feel sure they are up there now and we will go and find them."Jerry sat silent, smoking thoughtfully.Finally he took his pipe from his mouth, pressed the tobacco hard down with his horny middle finger and stuck it in his pocket.
"Mebbe so," he said slowly, a slight grin distorting his wizened little face, "mebbe so, but t'ink not--me.""Well, Jerry, where could they have gone? They might ride straight to Crowfoot's Reserve, but I think that is extremely unlikely.
They certainly would not go to the Bloods, therefore they must be up this canyon.We will go up, Jerry, for ten miles or so and see what we can see.""Good," said Jerry with a grunt, his tone conveying his conviction that where the chief scout of the North West Mounted Police had said it was useless to search, any other man searching would have nothing but his folly for his pains.
"Have a sleep first, Jerry.We need not start for a couple of hours."Jerry grunted his usual reply, rolled himself in his blanket and, lying down at the back of a rock, was asleep in a minute's time.
In two hours to the minute he stood beside his pony waiting for Cameron, who had been explaining his plan to the two constables and giving them his final orders.
The orders were very brief and simple.They were to wait where they were till noon.If any of the band of Piegans appeared one of the men was to ride up the canyon with the information, the other was to follow the band till they camped and then ride back till he should meet his comrades.They divided up the grub into two parts and Cameron and the interpreter took their way up the canyon.
The canyon consisted of a deep cleft across a series of ranges of hills or low mountains.Through it ran a rough breakneck trail once used by the Indians and trappers but now abandoned since the building of the Canadian Pacific Railway through the Kicking Horse Pass and the opening of the Government trail through the Crow's Nest.From this which had once been the main trail other trails led westward into the Kootenays and eastward into the Foothill country.At times the canyon widened into a valley, rich in grazing and in streams of water, again it narrowed into a gorge, deep and black, with rugged sides above which only the blue sky was visible, and from which led cavernous passages that wound into the heart of the mountains, some of them large enough to hold a hundred men or more without crowding.These caverns had been and still were found to be most convenient and useful for the purpose of whisky-runners and of cattle-rustlers, affording safe hiding-places for themselves and their spoil.With this trail and all its ramifications Jerry was thoroughly familiar.The only other man in the Force who knew it better than Jerry was Cameron himself.For many months he had patroled the main trail and all its cross leaders, lived in its caves and explored its caverns in pursuit of those interesting gentlemen whose activities more than anything else had rendered necessary the existence of the North West Mounted Police.In ancient times the caves along the Sun Dance Trail had been used by the Indian Medicine-Men for their pagan rites, and hence in the eyes of the Indians to these caves attached a dreadful reverence that made them places to be avoided in recent years by the various tribes now gathered on the reserves.But during these last months of unrest it was suspected by the Police that the ancient uses of these caves had been revived and that the rites long since fallen into desuetude were once more being practised.
