THE GREAT CHIEF
On the rampart of hills overlooking the Piegan encampment the sun was shining pleasantly.The winter, after its final savage kick, had vanished and summer, crowding hard upon spring, was wooing the bluffs and hillsides on their southern exposures to don their summer robes of green.Not yet had the bluffs and hillsides quite yielded to the wooing, not yet had they donned the bright green apparel of summer, but there was the promise of summer's color gleaming through the neutral browns and grays of the poplar bluffs and the sunny hillsides.The crocuses with reckless abandon had sprung forth at the first warm kiss of the summer sun and stood bravely, gaily dancing in their purple and gray, till whole hillsides blushed for them.And the poplars, hesitating with dainty reserve, shivered in shy anticipation and waited for a surer call, still wearing their neutral tints, except where they stood sheltered by the thick spruces from the surly north wind.There they had boldly cast aside all prudery and were flirting in all their gallant trappings with the ardent summer.
Seeing none of all this, but dimly conscious of the good of it, Cameron and his faithful attendant Jerry lay grimly watching through the poplars.Three days had passed since the raid, and as yet there was no sign at the Piegan camp of the returning raiders.
Not for one hour had the camp remained unwatched.Just long enough to bury his new-made friend, the dead outlaw, did Cameron himself quit the post, leaving Jerry on guard meantime, and now he was back again, with his glasses searching every corner of the Piegan camp and watching every movement.There was upon his face a look that filled with joy his watchful companion, a look that proclaimed his set resolve that when Eagle Feather and his young men should appear in camp there would speedily be swift and decisive action.For three days his keen eyes had looked forth through the delicate green-brown screen of poplar upon the doings of the Piegans, the Mounted Police meantime ostentatiously beating up the Blood Reserve with unwonted threats of vengeance for the raiders, the bruit of which had spread through all the reserves.
"Don't do anything rash," the Superintendent had admonished, as Cameron appeared demanding three troopers and Jerry, with whom to execute vengeance upon those who had brought death to a gallant gentleman and his gallant steed, for both of whom there had sprung up in Cameron's heart a great and admiring affection.
"No, sir," Cameron had replied, "nothing rash; we will do a little justice, that is all," but with so stern a face that the Superintendent had watched him away with some anxiety and had privately ordered a strong patrol to keep the Piegan camp under surveillance till Cameron had done his work.But there was no call for aid from any patrol, as it turned out; and before this bright summer morning had half passed away Cameron shut up his glasses, ready for action.
"I think they are all in now, Jerry, he said."We will go down.
Go and bring in the men.There is that devil Eagle Feather just riding in." Cameron's teeth went hard together on the name of the Chief, in whom the leniency of Police administration of justice had bred only a deeper treachery.
Within half an hour Cameron with his three troopers and Jerry rode jingling into the Piegan camp and disposed themselves at suitable points of vantage.Straight to the Chief's tent Cameron rode, and found Trotting Wolf standing at its door.
"I want that cattle-thief, Eagle Feather," he announced in a clear, firm voice that rang through the encampment from end to end.
"Eagle Feather not here," was Trotting Wolf's sullen but disturbed reply.
"Trotting Wolf, I will waste no time on you," said Cameron, drawing his gun."I take Eagle Feather or you.Make your choice and quick about it!" There was in Cameron's voice a ring of such compelling command that Trotting Wolf weakened visibly.
"I know not where Eagle Feather--"
"Halt there!" cried Cameron to an Indian who was seen to be slinking away from the rear of the line of tents.
The Indian broke into a run.Like a whirlwind Cameron was on his trail and before he had gained the cover of the woods had overtaken him.
"Halt!" cried Cameron again as he reached the Indian's side.The Indian stopped and drew a knife."You would, eh? Take that, will you?" Leaning down over his horse's neck Cameron struck the Indian with the butt of his gun.Before he could rise the three constables in a converging rush were upon him and had him handcuffed.
"Now then, where is Eagle Feather?" cried Cameron in a furious voice, riding his horse into the crowd that had gathered thick about him."Ah, I see you," he cried, touching his horse with his heel as on the farther edge of the crowd he caught sight of his man.With a single bound his horse was within touch of the shrinking Indian."Stand where you are!" cried Cameron, springing from his horse and striding to the Chief."Put up your hands!" he said, covering him with his gun."Quick, you dog!" he added, as Eagle Feather stood irresolute before him.Upon the uplifted hands Cameron slipped the handcuffs."Come with me, you cattle-thief,"he said, seizing him by the gaudy handkerchief that adorned his neck, and giving him a quick jerk.
"Trotting Wolf," said Cameron in a terrible voice, wheeling furiously upon the Chief, "this cattle-thieving of your band must stop.I want the six men who were in that cattle-raid, or you come with me.Speak quick!" he added.
"By Gar!" said Jerry, hugging himself in his delight, to the trooper who was in charge of the first Indian."Look lak' he tak'
de whole camp."
