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But though both Mr. Cadwaller and Mr. Raimes, as well as Sergeant Crisp and the Inspector, were expert cattle men, it took some little time and very considerable manoeuvering to get the stolen horses bunched together and separated from the rest of the animals grazing in the valley, and by the time this was accomplished Indian riders had appeared on every side, gradually closing in upon the party.
This is Her Majesty's court of Justice and we cannot tolerate any unbecoming language. "Waal, I'll be !" "Pardon me, Mr. Commissioner," said Mr. Hiram S. Sligh, interrupting his friend and client. "Perhaps I may make a statement. We've lost some twenty or thirty horses." "Thirty-one" interjected Mr. Raimes quietly. "Thirty-one!" burst in Mr. Cadwaller indignantly. "That's only one little bunch."
Cadwaller spurred up upon the Inspector and called out excitedly, "I say, Inspector, them's our hosses right there. Say, let's run 'em off." "Can you pick them out?" enquired the Inspector, turning in his saddle. "Every last one!" said Raimes. "Very well, cut them out and get them into a bunch," said the Inspector. "I see there are some Indians herding them apparently.
"And," continued Mr. Sligh, "we have traced them right up to the Blood reserve. More than that, Mr. Raimes has seen the horses in the possession of the Indians and we want your assistance in recovering our property." "Yes, by gum!" exclaimed Mr. Cadwaller. "And we want them eh eh consarned redskin thieves strung up." "You say you have seen the stolen horses on the Blood reserve, Mr.
"Sergeant Crisp, you will see to this," said the Inspector quietly as he rode away. Then Mr. Cadwaller began to laugh and continued laughing for several minutes. "By the holy poker, Sligh!" at last he exclaimed. "It's a joke. It's a regular John Bull joke." "Yes," said Mr. Sligh, while he cut a comfortable chew from his black plug. "Good joke, too, but not on John.
Cadwaller exercise himself considerably in making defence against the charges of Bull Back and his friends. The defence was successful, and the American citizens departed to Lone Pine, Montana, with their recovered horses and with a new and higher regard for both the executive and administrative excellence of Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police officers and men.
Red Crow's voice apparently could make no impression upon the maddened crowd of Indians. A minor Chief, White Horse by name, having whirled in behind the Sergeant, seized hold of Mr. Cadwaller's bridle and began to threaten him with excited gesticulations. Mr. Cadwaller drew his gun. "Let go that line, you blank blank redskin!" he roared, flourishing his revolver.
"Let him go," said the Inspector to Sergeant Crisp. "He will probably behave." The Indians had gathered close about the group. White Horse, in the centre, was talking fast and furious and pointing to Mr. Cadwaller. "Get the bunch off, Sergeant!" said the Inspector quietly. "I will hold them here for a few minutes." Quietly the Sergeant backed out of the circle, leaving the Inspector and Mr.
Waal, you hurry up and tell him J. B. Cadwaller of Lone Pine, Montana, an American citizen, wants to see him right smart." The orderly came in and saluted. "A man to see you, Sir," he said. "An American." "What business?" "Horse-stealing case, Sir." "Show him in!" In a moment the orderly returned, followed by, not one, but three American citizens. "Good-day, Jedge!
Pay no attention to them, but go right along with your work." "There's one of 'em off to give tongue!" cried Mr. Cadwaller excitedly. "Bring him down, Inspector! Bring him down! Quick! Here, let me have your rifle!" Hurriedly he snatched at the Inspector's carbine. "Stop!" cried the Inspector in sharp command. "Now, attention! We are on a somewhat delicate business. A mistake might bring disaster.
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