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, I shall 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. You left the construction camp and came here to settle down." All the while Cameron was speaking he was shaking his friend's hand with both of his. "By Jove, but you're fit!" he continued, running his eye over the slight but athletic figure of his friend.

"Fit! Never fitter, not even in the old days when I used to pass the pigskin to you out of the scrimmage. But you? You're hardly up to the mark." The keen gray eyes searched Cameron's face. "What's up with you?"

"Oh, nothing. A little extra work and a little worry, but I'll tell you later."

"Well, what are you on to now?" inquired Martin.

"Ordering our supper. We've just come in from a hundred and fifty miles' drive."

"Supper? Your wife here too? Glory! It's up to me, old boy! Look here, Connolly," he turned to the proprietor behind the bar, "a bang-up supper for three. All the season's delicacies and all the courses in order. As you love me, Connolly, do us your prettiest. And soon, awfully soon. A hundred and fifty miles, remember. Now, then, how's my old nurse?" he continued, turning back to Cameron. "She was my nurse, remember, till you came and stole her."

"She was, eh? Ask her," laughed Cameron. "But she will be glad to see you. Where's my nurse, then, my little nurse, who saw me through a fever and a broken leg?"

"Oh, she's up in the mountains still, in the construction camp. I proposed to bring her down here with me, but there was a riot. I barely escaped. If ever she gets out from that camp it will be when they are all asleep or when she is in a box car."

"Come along, then," cried Cameron. "I have much to tell you, and my wife will be glad to see you. My sister comes in by No. 1, do you know?"

"Your sister? By No. 1? You don't say! Why, I never thought your sister--by No. 1, eh?"

"Yes, by No. 1."

"Say, Doc," said the hotel man, breaking into the conversation. "There's a bunch of 'em comin' in, ain't there? Who's the lady you was expectin' yourself on No. 1?"

"Lady?" said Cameron. "What's this, Martin?"

"Me? Wake up, Connolly, you're walking in your sleep," violently signaling to the hotel man.

"Oh, it won't do, Martin," said Cameron with grave concern. "You may as well own up. Who is it? Come. By Jove! What? A blush? And on that asbestos cheek? Something here, sure enough."

"Oh, rot, Cameron! Connolly is a well-known somnambulist."

"Sure thing!" said Connolly. "Is it catchin,' for I guess you had the same thing last night?"

"Connolly, you've gone batty! You need a nurse."

"A nurse? Maybe so. Maybe so. But I guess you've got to the point where you need a preacher. Ha! ha! Got you that time, Doc!" laughed the hotel man, winking at Cameron.

"Oh, let it out, Martin. You'll feel better afterward. Who is it?"

"Cameron, so help me! Connolly is an infernal ass. He's batty, I tell you. I'm treating him for it right now."

"All right," said Cameron, "never mind. I shall run up and tell my wife you are here. Wait for me," he cried, as he ran up the stairs.

"Connolly, you fool! I'll knock your wooden block off!" said the doctor in a fury.

"But, Doc, you did say--"

"Oh, confound you! Shut up! It was--"

"But you did say--"

"Will you shut up?"

"Certain, sure I'll shut up. But you said--"

"Look here!" broke in the doctor impatiently. "He'll be down in a minute. I don't want him to know."

"Aw, Doc, cut it out! He ain't no Lady Clara."

"Connolly, close that trap of yours and listen to me. This is serious. He'll be back in a jiffy. It's the same lady as he is going to meet."

"Same lady? But she's his sister."

"Yes, of course, you idiot! She's his sister. And now you've queered me with him and he will think--"

"Aw, Doc, let me be. I'll straighten that tangle out."

"Sh-h! Here he is. Not a word, on your life!"

"Aw, get out!" replied Connolly with generous enthusiasm. "I don't leave no pard of mine in a hole. Say," he cried, turning to Cameron, "about that lady. Ha! ha!"

"Shut your ugly mug!" said the doctor savagely.

"It's the same lady. Ha! ha! Good joke, eh, Sergeant?"

"Same lady?" echoed Cameron.

"Sure, same lady."

"What does he mean, Martin?"

"The man's drunk, Cameron. He got a permit last week and he hasn't been sober for a day since."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Connolly again. "Wish I had a chance."

"But the lady?" said Cameron, looking at his friend suspiciously. "And these blushes?"

"Oh, well, hang it!" said Martin. "I suppose I might as well tell you. I found out that your sister was to be in on this train, and in case you should not turn up I told Connolly here to have a room ready."

"Oh," said Cameron, with his eyes upon his friend's face. "You found out? And how did you find out that Moira was coming?"

"Well," said Martin, his face growing hotter with every word of explanation, "you have a wife and we have a mutual friend in our little nurse, and that's how I learned. And so I thought I'd be on hand anyway. You remember I met your sister up at your Highland home with the unpronounceable name."

"Ah, yes! Cuagh Oir. Dear old spot!" said Cameron reminiscently. "Moira will be heart broken every day when she sees the Big Horn Ranch, I'm afraid. But here comes Mandy."

The meeting between the doctor and Cameron's wife was like that between old comrades in arms, as indeed they had been through many a hard fight with disease, accident and death during the construction days along the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway through the Rocky Mountains.

A jolly hour they had together at supper, exchanging news and retailing the latest jokes. And then Cameron told his friend the story of old Copperhead and of the task laid upon him by Superintendent Strong. Martin listened in grave silence till the tale was done, then said with quiet gravity:

"Cameron, this is a serious business. Why! It's--it's terrible."

"Yes," replied Mandy quickly, "but you can see that he must do it. We have quite settled that. You see there are the women and children."

"And is there no one else? Surely--"

"No, there is no one else quite so fit to do it," said Mandy.

"By Jove, you're a wonder!" cried Martin, his face lighting up with sudden enthusiasm.

"Not much of a wonder," she replied, a quick tremor in her voice. "Not much of a wonder, I'm afraid. But how could I keep him? I couldn't keep him, could I," she said, "if his country needs him?"

The doctor glanced at her face with its appealing deep blue eyes.

"No, by Jove! You couldn't keep him, not you."

"Now, Mandy," said Cameron, "you must upstairs and to bed." He read aright the signs upon her face. "You are tired and you will need all the sleep you can get. Wait for me, Martin, I'll be down in a few moments."

When they reached their room Cameron turned and took his wife in his arms.

"Mandy! as Martin says, you are wonderful. You are a brave woman. You have nerve enough for both of us, and you will need to have nerve for both, for how I am going to leave you I know not. But now you must to bed. I have a little business to attend to."

"Business?" inquired his wife.

"Yes. Oh, I won't try to hide it from you, Mandy. It's 'The Big Business.' We are--Dr. Martin and I--going up to the Barracks. Superintendent Strong has come down for a consultation." He paused and looked into his wife's face. "I must go, dear."

"Yes, yes, I know, Allan. You must go. But--do you know--it's foolish to say it, but as those Indians passed us I fancied I saw the face of Copperhead."

"Hardly, I fancy," said her husband with a laugh. "He'd know better than run into this town in open day just now. All Indians will look to you like old Copperhead for a while."

"It may be so. I fancy I'm a little nervous. But come back soon."

"You may be sure of that, sweetheart. Meantime sleep well."

The little town of Calgary stands on one of the most beautiful town-sites in all the world. A great plain with ramparts of hills on every side, encircled by the twin mountain rivers, the Bow and the Elbow, overlooked by rolling hills and far away to the west by the mighty peaks of the Rockies, it holds at once ample space and unusual picturesque beauty. The little town itself was just emerging from its early days as a railway construction-camp and was beginning to develop ambitions toward a well-ordered business activity and social stability. It was an all-night town, for the simple and sufficient reason that its communications with the world lying to the east and to the west began with the arrival of No. 2 at half-past twelve at night and No. 1 at five o'clock next morning. Few of its citizens thought it worth while to settle down for the night until after the departure of No. 2 on its westward journey.

Through this "all-night" little town Cameron and the doctor took their way. The sidewalks were still thronged, the stores still doing business, the restaurants, hotels, pool-rooms all wide open. It kept Sergeant Crisp busy enough running out the "tin-horn" gamblers and whisky-peddlers, keeping guard over the fresh and innocent lambs that strayed in from the East and across from the old land ready for shearing, and preserving law and order in this hustling frontier town. Money was still easy in the town, and had Sergeant Crisp been minded for the mere closing of his eyes or turning of his back upon occasion he might have retired early from the Force with a competency. Unhappily for Sergeant Crisp, however, there stood in the pathway of his fortune the awkward fact of his conscience and his oath of service. Consequently he was forced to grub along upon the munificent bounty of the daily pay with which Her Majesty awarded the faithful service of the non- coms. in her North West Mounted Police Force. And indeed through all the wide reaches of that great West land during those pioneer days and among all the officers of that gallant force no record can be found of an officer who counted fortune dearer than honor.

Through this wide awake, wicked, but well-watched little town Cameron with his friend made his way westward toward the Barracks to keep his appointment with his former Chief, Superintendent Strong. The Barracks stood upon the prairie about half a mile distant from the town. They found Superintendent Strong fuming with impatience, which he controlled with difficulty while Cameron presented his friend.

"Well, Cameron, you've come at last," was his salutation when the introduction was completed. "When did you get into town? I have been waiting all day to see you. Where have you been?"

"Arrived an hour ago," said Cameron shortly, for he did not half like the Superintendent's brusque manner. "The trail was heavy owing to the rain day before yesterday."

"When did you leave the ranch?" inquired Sergeant Crisp.

"Yesterday morning," said Cameron. "The colts were green and I couldn't send them along."

"Yesterday morning!" exclaimed Sergeant Crisp. "You needn't apologize for the colts, Cameron."

"I wasn't apologizing for anybody or anything. I was making a statement of fact," replied Cameron curtly.

"Ah, yes, very good going, Cameron. Very good going, indeed, I should say," said the Superintendent, conscious of his own brusqueness and anxious to appease. "Did Mrs. Cameron come with you?"

"She did."

"Indeed. That is a long drive for a lady to make, Cameron. Too long a drive, I should say. I hope she is quite well, not--eh-- over-fatigued?"

"She is quite well, thank you."

"Well, she is an old campaigner," said the Superintendent with a smile, "and not easily knocked up if I remember her aright. But I ought to say, Cameron, how very deeply I appreciate your very fine-- indeed very handsome conduct in volunteering to come to our assistance in this matter. Very handsome indeed I call it. It will have a good effect upon the community. I appreciate the sacrifice. The Commissioner and the whole Force will appreciate it. But," he added, as if to himself, "before we are through with this business I fear there will be more sacrifice demanded from all of us. I trust none of us will be found wanting." The Superintendent's voice was unduly solemn, his manner almost somber. Cameron was impressed with this manifestation of feeling so unusual with the Superintendent.

"Any more news, sir?" he inquired.

"Yes, every post brings news of seditious meetings up north along the Saskatchewan and of indifference on the part of the Government. And further, I have the most conclusive evidence that our Indians are being tampered with, and successfully too. There is no reason to doubt that the head chiefs have been approached and that many of the minor chiefs are listening to the proposals of Riel and his half-breeds. But you have some news to give, I understand? Dickson said you would give me particulars."

Thereupon Cameron briefly related the incidents in connection with the attempted arrest of the Sioux Chief, and closed with a brief account of the burning of his home.

"That is most daring, most serious," exclaimed the Superintendent. "But you are quite certain that it was the Sioux that was responsible for the outrage?"

"Well," said Cameron, "he met my wife on a trail five miles away, threatened her, and--"

"Good God, Cameron! Threatened your wife?"

"Yes, nearly flung her off her horse," replied Cameron, his voice quiet and even, but his eyes glowing like fires in his white face.

"Flung her off her horse? But--he didn't injure her?" replied the Superintendent.

"Only that he terrified her with his threats and then went on toward the house, which he left in flames."

"My God, Cameron!" said the Superintendent, rising in his excitement. "This is really terrible. You must have suffered awful anxiety. I apologize for my abrupt manner a moment ago," he added, offering his hand. "I'm awfully sorry."

"It's all right, Superintendent," replied Cameron. "I'm afraid I am a little upset myself."

"But what a God's mercy she escaped! How came that, I wonder?"

Then Cameron told the story of the rescue of the Indian boy.

"That undoubtedly explains it," exclaimed the Superintendent. "That was a most fortunate affair. Do an Indian a good turn and he will never forget it. I shudder to think of what might have happened, for I assure you that this Copperhead will stick at nothing. We have an unusually able man to deal with, and we shall put our whole Force on this business of arresting this man. Have you any suggestions yourself?"

"No," said Cameron, "except that it would appear to be a mistake to give any sign that we were very specially anxious to get him just now. So far we have not shown our hand. Any concentrating of the Force upon his capture would only arouse suspicion and defeat our aim, while my going after him, no matter how keenly, will be accounted for on personal grounds."

"There is something in that, but do you think you can get him?"

"I am going to get him," said Cameron quietly.

The superintendent glanced at his face.

"By Jove, I believe you will! But remember, you can count on me and on my Force to a man any time and every time to back you up, and there's my hand on it. And now, let's get at this thing. We have a cunning devil to do with and he has gathered about him the very worst elements on the reserves."

Together they sat and made their plans till far on into the night. But as a matter of fact they could make little progress. They knew well it would be extremely difficult to discover their man. Owing to the state of feeling throughout the reserves the source of information upon which the Police ordinarily relied had suddenly dried up or become untrustworthy. A marked change had come over the temper of the Indians. While as yet they were apparently on friendly terms and guilty of no open breach of the law, a sullen and suspicious aloofness marked the bearing of the younger braves and even of some of the chiefs toward the Police. Then, too, among the Piegans in the south and among the Sarcees whose reserve was in the neighborhood of Calgary an epidemic of cattle-stealing had broken out and the Police were finding it increasingly difficult to bring the criminals to justice. Hence with this large increase in crime and with the changed attitude and temper of the Indians toward the Police, such an amount of additional patrol-work was necessary that the Police had almost reached the limit of their endurance.

"In fact, we have really a difficult proposition before us, short- handed as we are," said the Superintendent as they closed their interview. "Indeed, if things become much worse we may find it necessary to organize the settlers as Home Guards. An outbreak on the Saskatchewan might produce at any moment the most serious results here and in British Columbia. Meantime, while we stand ready to help all we can, it looks to me, Cameron, that you are right and that in this business you must go it alone pretty much."

"I realize that, sir," replied Cameron. "But first I must get my house built and things in shape, then I hope to take this up."

"Most certainly," replied the Superintendent. "Take a month. He can't do much more harm in a month, and meantime we shall do our utmost to obtain information and we shall keep you informed of anything we discover."

The Superintendent and Sergeant accompanied Cameron and his friend to the door.

"It is a black night," said Sergeant Crisp. "I hope they're not running any 'wet freight' in to-night."

"It's a good night for it, Sergeant," said Dr. Martin. "Do you expect anything to come in?"

"I have heard rumors," replied the Sergeant, "and there is a freight train standing right there now which I have already gone through but upon which it is worth while still to keep an eye."

"Well, good-night," said the Superintendent, shaking Cameron by the hand. "Keep me posted and when within reach be sure and see me. Good-night, Dr. Martin. We may want you too before long."

"All right, sir, you have only to say the word."

The night was so black that the trail which in the daylight was worn smooth and plainly visible was quite blotted out. The light from the Indian camp fire, which was blazing brightly a hundred yards away, helped them to keep their general direction.

"For a proper black night commend me to the prairie," said the doctor. "It is the dead level does it, I believe. There is nothing to cast a reflection or a shadow."

"It will be better in a few minutes," said Cameron, "when we get our night sight."

"You are off the trail a bit, I think," said the doctor.

"Yes, I know. I am hitting toward the fire. The light makes it better going that way."

"I say, that chap appears to be going some. Quite a song and dance he's giving them," said the doctor, pointing to an Indian who in the full light of the camp fire was standing erect and, with hand outstretched, was declaiming to the others, who, kneeling or squatting about the fire, were giving him rapt attention. The erect figure and outstretched arm arrested Cameron. A haunting sense of familiarity floated across his memory.

"Let's go nearer," he said, "and quietly."

With extreme caution they made about two-thirds of the distance when a howl from an Indian dog revealed their presence. At once the speaker who had been standing in the firelight sank crouching to the ground. Instantly Cameron ran forward a few swift steps and, like a hound upon a deer, leapt across the fire and fair upon the crouching Indian, crying "Call the Police, Martin!"

With a loud cry of "Police! Police! Help here!" Martin sprang into the middle of an excited group of Indians. Two of them threw themselves upon him, but with a hard right and left he laid them low and, seizing a stick of wood, sprang toward two others who were seeking to batter the life out of Cameron as he lay gripping his enemy by the throat with one hand and with the other by the wrist to check a knife thrust. Swinging his stick around his head and repeating his cry for help, Martin made Cameron's assailants give back a space and before they could renew the attack Sergeant Crisp burst open the door of the Barracks, and, followed by a Slim young constable and the Superintendent, came rushing with shouts upon the scene. Immediately upon the approach of the Police the Indians ceased the fight and all that could faded out of the light into the black night around them, while the Indian who continued to struggle with incredible fury to free himself from Cameron's grip suddenly became limp and motionless.

"Now, what's all this?" demanded the Sergeant. "Why, it's you, doctor, and where--? You don't mean that's Cameron there? Hello, Cameron!" he said, leaning over him. "Let go! He's safe enough. We've got him all right. Let go! By Jove! Are they both dead?"

Here the Superintendent came up. The incidents leading up to the present situation were briefly described by the doctor.

"I can't get this fellow free," said the Sergeant, who was working hard to release the Indian's throat from the gripping fingers. He turned Cameron over on his back. He was quite insensible. Blood was pouring from his mouth and nose, but his fingers like steel clamps were gripping the wrist and throat of his foe. The Indian lay like dead.

"Good Lord, doctor! What shall we do?" cried the Superintendent. "Is he dead?"

"No," said Martin, with his hand upon Cameron's heart. "Bring water. You can't loosen his fingers till he revives. The blow that knocked him senseless set those fingers as they are and they will stay set thus till released by returning consciousness."

"Here then, get water quick!" shouted the Superintendent to the slim young constable.

Gradually as the water was splashed upon his face Cameron came back to life and, relaxing his fingers, stretched himself with a sigh as of vast relief and lay still.

"Here, take that, you beast!" cried the Sergeant, dashing the rest of the water into the face of the Indian lying rigid and motionless on the ground. A long shudder ran through the Indian's limbs. Clutching at his throat with both hands, he raised himself to a sitting posture, his breath coming in raucous gasps, glared wildly upon the group, then sank back upon the ground, rolled over upon his side and lay twitching and breathing heavily, unheeded by the doctor and Police who were working hard over Cameron.

"No bones broken, I think," said the doctor, feeling the battered head. "Here's where the blow fell that knocked him out," pointing to a ridge that ran along the side of Cameron's head. "A little lower, a little more to the front and he would never have moved. Let's get him in."

Cameron opened his eyes, struggled to speak and sank back again.

"Don't stir, old chap. You're all right. Don't move for a bit. Could you get a little brandy, Sergeant?"

Again the slim young constable rushed toward the Barracks and in a few moments returned with the spirits. After taking a sip of the brandy Cameron again opened his eyes and managed to say "Don't--"

"All right, old chap," said the doctor. "We won't move you yet. Just lie still a bit." But as once more Cameron opened his eyes the agony of the appeal in them aroused the doctor's attention. "Something wrong, eh?" he said. "Are you in pain, old boy?"

The appealing eyes closed, then, opening again, turned toward the Superintendent.

"Copperhead," he whispered.

"What do you say?" said the Superintendent kneeling down.

Once more with painful effort Cameron managed to utter the word "Copperhead."

"Copperhead!" ejaculated the Superintendent in a low tense voice, springing to his feet and turning toward the unconscious Indian. "He's gone!" he cried with a great oath. "He's gone! Sergeant Crisp!" he shouted, "Call out the whole Force! Surround this camp and hold every Indian. Search every teepee for this fellow who was lying here. Quick! Quick!" Leaving Cameron to the doctor, who in a few minutes became satisfied that no serious injury had been sustained, he joined in the search with fierce energy. The teepees were searched, the squaws and papooses were ruthlessly bundled out from their slumbers and with the Indians were huddled into the Barracks. But of the Sioux Chief there was no sign. He had utterly vanished. The black prairie had engulfed him.

But the Police had their own methods. Within a quarter of an hour half a dozen mounted constables were riding off in different directions to cover the main trails leading to the Indian reserves and to sweep a wide circle about the town.

"They will surely get him," said Dr. Martin confidently.

"Not much chance of it," growled Cameron, to whom with returning consciousness had come the bitter knowledge of the escape of the man he had come to regard as his mortal enemy. "I had him fast enough," he groaned, "in spite of the best he could do, and I would have choked his life out had it not been for these other devils."

"They certainly jumped in savagely," said Martin. "In fact I cannot understand how they got at the thing so quickly."

"Didn't you hear him call?" said Cameron. "It was his call that did it. Something he said turned them into devils. They were bound to do for me. I never saw Indians act like that."

"Yes, I heard that call, and it mighty near did the trick for you. Thank Heaven your thick Hielan' skull saved you."

"How did they let him go?" again groaned Cameron.

"How? Because he was too swift for us," said the Superintendent, who had come in, "and we too slow. I thought it was an ordinary Indian row, you see, but I might have known that you would not have gone in in that style without good reason. Who would think that this old devil should have the impudence to camp right here under our nose? Where did he come from anyway, do you suppose?"

"Been to the Blackfoot Reserve like enough and was on his way to the Sarcees when he fell in with this little camp of theirs."

"That's about it," replied the Superintendent gloomily. "And to think you had him fast and we let him go!"

The thought brought small comfort to any of them, least of all to Cameron. In that vast foothill country with all the hidings of the hills and hollows there was little chance that the Police would round up the fugitive, and upon Cameron still lay the task of capturing this cunning and resourceful foe.

"Never mind," said Martin cheerily. "Three out, all out. You'll get him next time."

"I don't know about that. But I'll get him some time or he'll get me," replied Cameron as his face settled into grim lines. "Let's get back."

"Are you quite fit?" inquired the Superintendent.

"Fit enough. Sore a bit in the head, but can navigate."

"I can't tell you how disappointed and chagrined I feel. It isn't often that my wits are so slow but--" The Superintendent's jaws here cut off his speech with a snap. The one crime reckoned unpardonable in the men under his own command was that of failure and his failure to capture old Copperhead thus delivered into his hands galled him terribly.

"Well, good-night, Cameron," said the Superintendent, looking out into the black night. "We shall let you know to-morrow the result of our scouting, though I don't expect much from it. He is much too clever to be caught in the open in this country."

"Perhaps he'll skidoo," said Dr. Martin hopefully.

"No, he's not that kind," replied the Superintendent. "You can't scare him out. You have got to catch him or kill him."

"I think you are right, sir," said Cameron. "He will stay till his work is done or till he is made to quit."

"That is true, Cameron--till he is made to quit--and that's your job," said the Superintendent solemnly.

"Yes, that is my job, sir," replied Cameron simply and with equal solemnity. "I shall do my best."

"We have every confidence in you, Cameron," replied the Superintendent. "Good-night," he said again, shutting the door.

"Say, old man, this is too gruesome," said Martin with fierce impatience. "I can't see why it's up to you more than any other."

"The Sun Dance Trail is the trail he must take to do his work. That was my patrol last year--I know it best. God knows I don't want this--" his breath came quick--"I am not afraid--but--but there's-- We have been together for such a little while, you know." He could get no farther for a moment or two, then added quietly, "But somehow I know--yes and she knows--bless her brave heart--it is my job. I must stay with it."