The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 13

They were a silent and chagrined pair as they rode out from the Reserve toward the ranch. As they were climbing from the valley to the plateau above they came to a soft bit of ground. Here Cameron suddenly drew rein with a warning cry, and, flinging himself off his broncho, was upon his knee examining a fresh track.

"A pony-track, by all that's holy! And within an hour. It is our man,"

he cried, examining the trail carefully and following it up the hill and out on to the plateau. "It is our man sure enough, and he is taking this trail."

For some miles the pony-tracks were visible enough. There was no attempt to cover them. The rider was evidently pushing hard.

"Where do you think he is heading for, Inspector?"

"Well," said the Inspector, "this trail strikes toward the Blackfoot Reserve by way of your ranch."

"My ranch!" cried Cameron. "My G.o.d! Look there!"

As he spoke the ginger-colored broncho leaped into a gallop. Five miles away a thin column of smoke could be seen rising up into the air. Every mile made it clearer to Cameron that the smoke rising from behind the round-topped hill before him was from his ranch-buildings, and every mile intensified his anxiety. His wife was alone on the ranch at the mercy of that fiend. That was the agonizing thought that tore at his heart as his panting broncho pounded along the trail. From the top of the hill overlooking the ranch a mile away his eye swept the scene below, swiftly taking in the details. The ranch-house was in flames and burning fiercely. The stables were untouched. A horse stood tied to the corral and two figures were hurrying to and fro about the blazing building. As they neared the scene it became clear that one of the figures was that of a woman.

"Mandy!" he shouted from afar. "Mandy, thank G.o.d it's you!"

But they were too absorbed in their business of fighting the fire. They neither heard nor saw him till he flung himself off his broncho at their side.

"Oh, thank G.o.d, Mandy!" he panted, "you are safe." He gathered her into his arms.

"Oh, Allan, I am so sorry."

"Sorry? Sorry? Why?"

"Our beautiful house!"

"House?"

"And all our beautiful things!"

"Things!" He laughed aloud. "House and things! Why, Mandy, I have YOU safe. What else matters?" Again he laughed aloud, holding her off from him at arm's length and gazing at her grimy face. "Mandy," he said, "I believe you are improving every day in your appearance, but you never looked so stunning as this blessed minute." Again he laughed aloud. He was white and trembling.

"But the house, Allan!"

"Oh, yes, by the way," he said, "the house. And who's the Johnny carrying water there?"

"Oh, I quite forgot. That's Thatcher's new man."

"Rather wobbly about the knees, isn't he?" cried Cameron. "By Jove, Mandy! I feared I should never see you again," he said in a voice that trembled and broke. "And what's the chap's name?" he inquired.

"Smith, I think," said Mandy.

"Smith? Fine fellow! Most useful name!" cried Cameron.

"What's the matter, Allan?"

"The matter? Nothing now, Mandy. Nothing matters. I was afraid that--but no matter. h.e.l.lo, here's the Inspector!"

"Dear Mrs. Cameron," cried the Inspector, taking both her hands in his, "I'm awfully glad there's nothing wrong."

"Nothing wrong? Look at that house!"

"Oh, yes, awfully sorry. But we were afraid--of that--eh--that is--"

"Yes, Mandy," said her husband, making visible efforts to control his voice, "we frankly were afraid that that old devil Copperhead had come this way and--"

"He did!" cried Mandy.

"What?"

"He did. Oh, Allan, I was going to tell you just as the Inspector came, and I am so sorry. When you left I wanted to help. I was afraid of what all those Indians might do to you, so I thought I would ride up the trail a bit. I got near to where it branches off toward the Reserve near by those pine trees. There I saw a man come tearing along on a pony. It was this Indian. I drew aside. He was just going past when he glanced at me. He stopped and came rushing at me, waving a pistol in his hand. Oh, such a face! I wonder I ever thought him fine-looking. He caught me by the arm. I thought his fingers would break the bone. Look!" She pulled up her sleeve, and upon the firm brown flesh blue and red finger marks could be seen. "He caught me and shook me and fairly yelled at me, 'You save my boy once. Me save you to-day. Next time me see your man me kill him.' He flung me away from him and nearly off my horse--such eyes! such a face!--and went galloping off down the trail. I feared I was going to be ill, so I came on homeward. When I reached the top of the hill I saw the smoke and by the time I arrived the house was blazing and Smith was carrying water to put out the fire where it had caught upon the smoke house and stables."

The men listened to her story with tense white faces. When she had finished Cameron said quietly:

"Mandy, roll me up some grub in a blanket."

"Where are you going, Allan?" her face pale as his own.

"Going? To get my hands on that Indian's throat."

"But not now?"

"Yes, now," he said, moving toward his horse.

"What about me, Allan?"

The word arrested him as if a hand had gripped him.

"You," he said in a dazed manner. "Why, Mandy, of course, there's you.

He might have killed you." Then, shaking his shoulders as if throwing off a load, he said impatiently, "Oh, I am a fool. That devil has sent me off my head. I tell you what, Mandy, we will feed first, then we will make new plans."

"And there is Moira, too," said Mandy.

"Yes, there is Moira. We will plan for her too. After all,"

he continued, with a slight laugh and with slow deliberation, "there's--lots--of time--to--get him!"

CHAPTER VII

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 cl.u.s.ter 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!"