The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 32

"Hot," cried Cameron to the Chief. "Big pail--hot--hot."

"Huh," grunted the Chief a second time with growing intelligence, and in an incredibly short s.p.a.ce returned with water sufficiently hot and in sufficient quant.i.ty.

All unconscious of the admiring eyes that followed the swift and skilled movements of her capable hands, Mandy worked over the festering and fevered wound till, cleansed, soothed, wrapped in a cooling lotion, the limb rested easily upon a sling of birch bark and skins suggested and prepared by the Chief. Then for the first time the boy made a sound.

"Huh," he grunted feebly. "Doctor--no good. Squaw--heap good. Me two foot--live--one foot--" he held up one finger--"die." His eyes were shining with something other than the fever that drove the blood racing through his veins. As a dog's eyes follow every movement of his master so the lad's eyes, eloquent with adoring grat.i.tude, followed his nurse as she moved about the wigwam.

"Now we must get that clean tent, Allan."

"All right," said her husband. "It will be no easy job, but we shall do our best. Here, Chief," he cried, "get some of your young men to pitch another tent in a clean place."

The Chief, eager though he was to a.s.sist, hesitated.

"No young men," he said. "Get squaw," and departed abruptly.

"No young men, eh?" said Cameron to his wife. "Where are they, then? I notice there are no bucks around."

And so while the squaws were pitching a tent in a spot somewhat removed from the encampment, Cameron poked about among the tents and wigwams of which the Indian encampment consisted, but found for the most part only squaws and children and old men. He came back to his wife greatly disturbed.

"The young bucks are gone, Mandy. I must get after this thing quickly. I wish I had Jerry here. Let's see? You ask for a messenger to be sent to the fort for the doctor and medicine. I shall enclose a note to the Inspector. We want the doctor here as soon as possible and we want Jerry here at the earliest possible moment."

With a great show of urgency a messenger was requisitioned and dispatched, carrying a note from Cameron to the Commissioner requesting the presence of the doctor with his medicine bag, but also requesting that Jerry, the redoubtable half-breed interpreter and scout, with a couple of constables, should accompany the doctor, the constables, however, to wait outside the camp until summoned.

During the hours that must elapse before any answer could be had from the fort, Cameron prepared a couch in a corner of the sick boy's tent for his wife, and, rolling himself in his blanket, he laid himself down at the door outside where, wearied with the long day and its many exciting events, he slept without turning, till shortly after daybreak he was awakened by a chorus of yelping curs which heralded the arrival of the doctor from the fort with the interpreter Jerry in attendance.

After breakfast, prepared by Jerry with dispatch and skill, the product of long experience, there was a thorough examination of the sick boy's condition through the interpreter, upon the conclusion of which a long consultation followed between the doctor, Cameron and Mandy. It was finally decided that the doctor should remain with Mandy in the Indian camp until a change should become apparent in the condition of the boy, and that Cameron with the interpreter should pick up the two constables and follow in the trail of the young Piegan braves. In order to allay suspicion Cameron and his companion left the camp by the trail which led toward the fort. For four miles or so they rode smartly until the trail pa.s.sed into a thick timber of spruce mixed with poplar. Here Cameron paused, and, making a slight sign in the direction from which they had come, he said:

"Drop back, Jerry, and see if any Indian is following."

"Good," grunted Jerry. "Go slow one mile," and, slipping from his pony, he handed the reins to Cameron and faded like a shadow into the brushwood.

For a mile Cameron rode, pausing now and then to listen for the sound of anyone following, then drew rein and waited for his companion. After a few minutes of eager listening he suddenly sat back in his saddle and felt for his pipe.

"All right, Jerry," he said softly, "come out."

Grinning somewhat shamefacedly Jerry parted a bunch of spruce boughs and stood at Cameron's side.

"Good ears," he said, glancing up into Cameron's face.

"No, Jerry," replied Cameron, "I saw the blue-jay."

"Huh," grunted Jerry, "dat fool bird tell everyt'ing."

"Any Indian following?"

Jerry held up two fingers.

"Two Indian run tree mile--find notting--go back."

"Good! Where are our men?"

"Down Coulee Swampy Creek."

"All right, Jerry. Any news at the fort last two or three days?"

"Beeg meetin' St. Laurent. Much half-breed. Some Indian too. Louis Riel mak beeg spik--beeg noise--blood! blood! blood! Much beeg fool."

Jerry's tone indicated the completeness of his contempt for the whole proceedings at St. Laurent.

"Something doing, eh, Jerry?"

"Bah!" grunted Jerry contemptuously.

"Well, there's something doing here," continued Cameron. "Trotting Wolf's young men have left the reserve and Trotting Wolf is very anxious that we should not know it. I want you to go back, find out what direction they have taken, how far ahead they are, how many. We camp to-night at the Big Rock at the entrance to the Sun Dance Canyon. You remember?"

Jerry nodded.

"There's something doing, Jerry, or I am much mistaken. Got any grub?"

"Grub?" asked Jerry. "Me--here--t'ree day," tapping his rolled blanket at the back of his saddle. "Odder fellers--grub--Jakes--t'ree men--t'ree day. Come Beeg Rock to-night--mebbe to-morrow." So saying, Jerry climbed on to his pony and took the back trail, while Cameron went forward to meet his men at the Swampy Creek Coulee.

Making a somewhat wide detour to avoid the approaches to the Indian encampment, Cameron and his two men rode for the Big Rock at the entrance to the Sun Dance Canyon. They gave themselves no concern about Trotting Wolf's band of young men. They knew well that what Jerry could not discover would not be worth finding out. A year's close a.s.sociation with Jerry had taught Cameron something of the marvelous powers of observation, of the tenacity and courage possessed by the little half-breed that made him the keenest scout in the North West Mounted Police.

At the Big Rock they arrived late in the afternoon and there waited for Jerry's appearing; but night had fallen and had broken into morning before the scout came into camp with a single word of report:

"Notting."

"No Piegans?" exclaimed Cameron.

"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."