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The Police had been patient, but they had become weary. They had their suspicions as to the thieves. Eagle Feather was anxious to know what Indians were suspected. "Not the Stonies and not the Blackfeet," replied Jerry quietly. It was a pity, he continued, that innocent men should suffer for the guilty.
Benson looked up eagerly. "You're going to bring him here? It's a daring plan, because it will be difficult to make him come." "He'll come it he values his life," Harding said resolutely. "The Indian will take me to the village, and perhaps see me through if I offer him enough; he seems to have some grudge against the Stonies.
They were all to be here, every tribe represented, the Stonies even had been drawn into it, some of the young bloods I suppose. And, more than that, the Sioux from across the line." "The Sioux, eh?" said the Sergeant. "I didn't know the Sioux were in this."
He spoke a few words to Little Thunder in Indian. "Little Thunder thinks they may be Blackfeet. We can't be too careful. Now let's get grub." Cameron made no reply. The trader's hesitating manner awakened all his former suspicions. He was firmly convinced the Indians were Stonies and he resolved that come what might he would make his escape to their camp.
Once when out with some Assiniboines, or Mountain Stonies, as they are generally called by the whites, we saw a large eagle attack a mountain sheep with such fury that the sheep lost its footing and went whirling down the mountain side to certain destruction.
"I ask no more," said Cameron. There was no further conversation, for Raven appeared intent on putting as large a space as possible between himself and the camp of the Stonies. The discovery of the fraud he knew would be inevitable and he knew, too, that George Macdougall was not the man to allow his flock to be fleeced with impunity.
We have crossed big belts of burnt trees in a country where we saw no signs of Indians." "If this blower has been burning long, the Stonies must have known of it," Blake remarked. "Isn't it curious that no news of it has reached the settlements?" "I'm not sure," Harding rejoined. "They may venerate the thing, and anyway, they're smart in some respects.
The Stonies, as you remark, are not a polished set; but we're on pretty good terms, and it's their primitiveness that makes them interesting. You can learn things civilized men don't know much about from these people." "In my opinion, it's knowledge that's not worth much to a white man," Harding remarked contemptuously. "Guess you mean the secrets of their medicine-men?
The Commissioner listened with keen attention, now and then arresting him with a question or a comment. When Cameron came to tell of the murder of the Stonies his voice shook with passion. "We will get that Indian some day," said the Commissioner, "never fear. What is his name?" "Little Thunder, Raven called him. And I would like to take a hand in that too, Sir," said Cameron eagerly.
"Yes," he said gravely, "an impressive scene, in my eyes at least, and I should not wonder if in the eyes of God as well." "Who knows?" said Raven gruffly, as they both turned back to the fire. The minutes passed slowly. The scene in the camp of the Stonies that he had just witnessed drove all sleep from Cameron.
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