The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 51

As the days went on the Superintendent at Macleod, whose duty it was to hold in statu quo that difficult country running up into the mountains and down to the American boundary-line, found his task one that would have broken a less cool-headed and stout-hearted officer.

The situation in which he found himself seemed almost to invite destruction. On the eighteenth of March he had sent the best of his men, some twenty-five of them, with his Inspector, to join the Alberta Field Force at Calgary, whence they made that famous march to Edmonton of over two hundred miles in four and a half marching days. From Calgary, too, had gone a picked body of Police with Superintendent Strong and his scouts as part of the Alberta Field Force under General Strange. Thus it came that by the end of April the Superintendent at Fort Macleod had under his command only a handful of his trained Police, supported by two or three companies of Militia--who, with all their ardor, were unskilled in plain-craft, strange to the country, new to war, ignorant of the habits and customs and temper of the Indians with whom they were supposed to deal--to hold the vast extent of territory under his charge, with its little scattered hamlets of settlers, safe in the presence of the largest and most warlike of the Indian tribes in Western Canada.

Every day the strain became more intense. A crisis appeared to be reached when the news came that on the twenty-fourth of April General Middleton had met a check at Fish Creek, which, though not specially serious in itself, revealed the possibilities of the rebel strategy and gave heart to the enemy immediately engaged.

And, though Fish Creek was no great fight, the rumor of it ran through the Western reserves like red fire through prairie-gra.s.s, blowing almost into flame the war-spirit of the young braves of the Bloods, Piegans and Sarcees and even of the more stable Blackfeet. Three days after that check, the news of it was humming through every tepee in the West, and for a week or more it took all the cool courage and steady nerve characteristic of the Mounted Police to enable them to ride without flurry or hurry their daily patrols through the reserves.

At this crisis it was that the Superintendent at Macleod gathered together such of his officers and non-commissioned officers as he could in council at Fort Calgary, to discuss the situation and to plan for all possible emergencies. The full details of the Fish Creek affair had just come in. They were disquieting enough, although the Superintendent made light of them. On the wall of the barrack-room where the council was gathered there hung a large map of the Territories. The Superintendent, a man of small oratorical powers, undertook to set forth the disposition of the various forces now operating in the West.

"Here you observe the main line running west from Regina to the mountains, some five hundred and fifty miles," he said. "And here, roughly, two hundred and fifty miles north, is the northern boundary line of our settlements, Prince Albert at the east, Battleford at the center, Edmonton at the west, each of these points the center of a country ravaged by half-breeds and bands of Indians. To each of these points relief-expeditions have been sent.

"This line represents the march of Commissioner Irvine from Regina to Prince Albert--a most remarkable march that was too, gentlemen, nearly three hundred miles over snow-bound country in about seven days. That march will be remembered, I venture to say. The Commissioner still holds Prince Albert, and we may rely upon it will continue to hold it safe against any odds. Meantime he is scouting the country round about, preventing Indians from reinforcing the enemy in any large numbers.

"Next, to the west is Battleford, which holds the central position and is the storm-center of the rebellion at present. This line shows the march of Colonel Otter with Superintendent Herchmer from Swift Current to that point. We have just heard that Colonel Otter has arrived at Battleford and has raised the siege. But large bands of Indians are in the vicinity of Battleford and the situation there is extremely critical. I understand that old Oo-pee-too-korah-han-apee-wee-yin--" the Superintendent prided himself upon his mastery of Indian names and ran off this polysyllabic cognomen with the utmost facility--"the Pond-maker, or Pound-maker as he has come to be called, is in the neighborhood. He is not a bad fellow, but he is a man of unusual ability, far more able than of the Willow Crees, Beardy, as he is called, though not so savage, and he has a large and compact body of Indians under him.

"Then here straight north from us some two hundred miles is Edmonton, the center of a very wide district spa.r.s.ely settled, with a strong half-breed element in the immediate neighborhood and Big Bear and Little Pine commanding large bodies of Indians ravaging the country round about. Inspector Griesbach is in command of this district, located at Fort Saskatchewan, which is in close touch with Edmonton. General Strange, commanding the Alberta Field Force and several companies of Militia, together with our own men under Superintendent Strong and Inspector d.i.c.kson, are on the way to relieve this post. Inspector d.i.c.kson, I understand, has successfully made the crossing of the Red Deer with his nine pr. gun, a quite remarkable feat I a.s.sure you.

"But, gentlemen, you see the position in which we are placed in this section of the country. From the Cypress Hills here away to the southeast, westward to the mountains and down to the boundary-line, you have a series of reserves almost completely denuded of Police supervision. True, we are fortunate in having at the Blackfoot Crossing, at Fort Calgary and at Fort Macleod, companies of Militia; but the very presence of these troops incites the Indians, and in some ways is a continual source of unrest among them.

"Every day runners from the North and East come to our reserves with extraordinary tales of rebel victories. This Fish Creek business has had a tremendous influence upon the younger element. On every reserve there are scores of young braves eager to rise. What a general uprising would mean you know, or think you know. An Indian war of extermination is a horrible possibility. The question before us all is--what is to be done?"

After a period of conversation the Superintendent summed up the results of the discussion in a few short sentences:

"It seems, gentlemen, there is not much more to be done than what we are already doing. But first of all I need not say that we must keep our nerve. I do not believe any Indian will see any sign of doubt or fear in the face of any member of this Force. Our patrols must be regularly and carefully done. There are a lot of things which we must not see, a certain amount of lawbreaking which we must not notice. Avoid on every possible occasion pushing things to extremes; but where it is necessary to act we must act with prompt.i.tude and fearlessness, as Mr. Cameron here did at the Piegan Reserve a week or so ago. I mention this because I consider that action of Cameron's a typically fine piece of Police work. We must keep on good terms with the Chiefs, tell them what good news there is to tell. We must intercept every runner possible. Arrest them and bring them to the barracks. The situation is grave, but not hopeless. Great responsibilities rest upon us, gentlemen. I do not believe that we shall fail."

The little company broke up with resolute and grim determination stamped on every face. There would be no weakening at any spot where a Mounted Policeman was on duty.

"Cameron, just a moment," said the Superintendent as he was pa.s.sing out.

"Sit down. You were quite right in that Eagle Feather matter. You did the right thing in pushing that hard."

"I somehow felt I could do it, sir," replied Cameron simply. "I had the feeling in my bones that we could have taken the whole camp that day."

The Superintendent nodded. "I understand. And that is the way we should feel. But don't do anything rash this week. This is a week of crisis.

If any further reverse should happen to our troops it will be extremely difficult, if indeed possible, to hold back the younger braves. If there should be a rising--which may G.o.d forbid--my plan then would be to back right on to the Blackfeet Reserve. If old Crowfoot keeps steady--and with our presence to support him I believe he would--we could hold things safe for a while. But, Cameron, that Sioux devil Copperhead must be got rid of. It is he that is responsible for this restless spirit among the younger Chiefs. He has been in the East, you say, for the last three weeks, but he will soon be back. His runners are everywhere. His work lies here, and the only hope for the rebellion lies here, and he knows it. My scouts inform me that there is something big immediately on. A powwow is arranged somewhere before final action. I have reason to suspect that if we sustain another reverse and if the minor Chiefs from all the reserves come to an agreement, Crowfoot will yield. That is the game that the Sioux is working on now."

"I know that quite well, sir," replied Cameron. "Copperhead has captured practically all the minor Chiefs."

"The checking of that big cattle-run, Cameron, was a mighty good stroke for us. You did that magnificently."

"No, sir," replied Cameron firmly. "We owe that to Raven."

"Yes, yes, we do owe a good deal to--to--that--to Raven. Fine fellow gone wrong. Yes, we owe a lot to him, but we owe a lot to you as well, Cameron. I am not saying you will ever get any credit for it, but--well--who cares so long as the thing is done? But this Sioux must be got at all costs--at all costs, Cameron, remember. I have never asked you to push this thing to the limit, but now at all costs, dead or alive, that Sioux must be got rid of."

"I could have potted him several times," replied Cameron, "but did not wish to push matters to extremes."

"Quite right. Quite right. That has been our policy hitherto, but now things have reached such a crisis that we can take no further chances.

The Sioux must be eliminated."

"All right, sir," said Cameron, and a new purpose shaped itself in his heart. At all costs he would get the Sioux, alive if possible, dead if not.

Plainly the first thing was to uncover his tracks, and with this intention Cameron proceeded to the Blackfeet Reserve, riding with Jerry down the Bow River from Fort Calgary, until, as the sun was setting on an early May evening, he came in sight of the Blackfoot Crossing.

Not wishing to visit the Militia camp at that point, and desiring to explore the approaches of the Blackfeet Reserve with as little ostentation as possible, he sent Jerry on with the horses, with instructions to meet him later on in the evening on the outside of the Blackfeet camp, and took a side trail on foot leading to the reserve through a coulee. Through the bottom of the coulee ran a little stream whose banks were packed tight with alders, willows and poplars.

Following the trail to where it crossed the stream, Cameron left it for the purpose of quenching his thirst, and proceeded up-stream some little way from the usual crossing. Lying there p.r.o.ne upon his face he caught the sound of hoofs, and, peering through the alders, he saw a line of Indians riding down the opposite bank. Burying his head among the tangled alders and hardly breathing, he watched them one by one cross the stream not more than thirty yards away and clamber up the bank.

"Something doing here, sure enough," he said to himself as he noted their faces. Three of them he knew, Red Crow of the Bloods, Trotting Wolf of the Piegans, Running Stream of the Blackfeet, then came three others unknown to Cameron, and last in the line Cameron was startled to observe Copperhead himself, while close at his side could be seen the slim figure of his son. As the Sioux pa.s.sed by Cameron's hiding-place he paused and looked steadily down into the alders for a moment or two, then rode on.

"Saved yourself that time, old man," said Cameron as the Sioux disappeared, following the others up the trail. "We will see just which trail you take," he continued, following them at a safe distance and keeping himself hidden by the brush till they reached the open and disappeared over the hill. Swiftly Cameron ran to the top, and, lying p.r.o.ne among the prairie gra.s.s, watched them for some time as they took the trail that ran straight westward.

"Sarcee Reserve more than likely," he muttered to himself. "If Jerry were only here! But he is not, so I must let them go in the meantime.

Later, however, we shall come up with you, gentlemen. And now for old Crowfoot and with no time to lose."

He had only a couple of miles to go and in a few minutes he had reached the main trail from the Militia camp at the Crossing. In the growing darkness he could not discern whether Jerry had pa.s.sed with the horses or not, so he pushed on rapidly to the appointed place of meeting and there found Jerry waiting for him.

"Listen, Jerry!" said he. "Copperhead is back. I have just seen him and his son with Red Crow, Trotting Wolf and Running Stream. There were three others--Sioux I think they are; at any rate I did not know them.

They pa.s.sed me in the coulee and took the Sarcee trail. Now what do you think is up?"

Jerry pondered. "Come from Crowfoot, heh?"

"From the reserve here anyway," answered Cameron.

"Trotting Wolf beeg Chief--Red Crow beeg Chief--ver' bad! ver' bad!

Dunno me--look somet'ing--beeg powwow mebbe. Ver' bad! Ver' bad! Go Sarcee Reserve, heh?" Again Jerry pondered. "Come from h'east--by Blood--Piegan--den Blackfeet--go Sarcee. What dey do? Where go den?"

"That is the question, Jerry," said Cameron.

"Sout' to Weegwam? No, nord to Ghost Reever--Manitou Rock--dunno--mebbe."

"By Jove, Jerry, I believe you may be right. I don't think they would go to the Wigwam--we caught them there once--nor to the canyon. What about this Ghost River? I don't know the trail. Where is it?"

"Nord from Bow Reever by Kananaskis half day to Ghost Reever--bad trail--small leetle reever--ver' stony--ver' cold--beeg tree wit' long beard."

"Long beard?"

"Yes--long, long gray moss lak' beard--ver' strange place dat--from Ghost Reever west one half day to beeg Manitou Rock--no trail. Beeg medicine-dance dere--see heem once long tam' 'go--leetle boy me--beeg medicine--Indian debbil stay dere--Indian much scare'--only go when mak'

beeg tam'--beeg medicine."

"Let me see if I get you, Jerry. A bad trail leads half a day north from the Bow at Kananaskis to Ghost River, eh?"

Jerry nodded.

"Then up the Ghost River westward through the bearded trees half a day to the Manitou Rock? Is that right?"

Again Jerry nodded.

"How shall I know the rock?"

"Beeg rock," said Jerry. "Beeg dat tree," pointing to a tall poplar, "and cut straight down lak some knife--beeg rock--black rock."