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Updated: May 9, 2025
We must get closer." Cameron gripped him by the arm. "Look!" he said, pointing to a group of Indians standing at a little distance beyond the lodges. "Little Thunder and Raven!" "Yes, by Jove!" said the Inspector. "And White Horse, and Louis the Breed and Rainy Cloud of the Blackfeet. A couple of Sarcee chaps, I see, too, some Piegans and Bloods; the rest are Crees and Assiniboines.
"I remember him an impudent cur." He moved quietly toward his horse, drew the reins up over his head, and, leading him back toward the fire, took his place beside Crowfoot again. The Sarcee had begun his tale, speaking under intense excitement which he vainly tried to control. He delivered his message.
It was due to the influence of such men as the Superintendents and Inspectors of the Police in charge of the various posts throughout the foothill country more than to anything else that the Chiefs of the "great, warlike, intelligent and untractable tribes" of Blackfeet, Blood, Piegan, Sarcee and Stony Indians were prevented from breaking their treaties and joining with the rebel Crees, Salteaux and Assiniboines of the North and East.
"Oh, Allan," cried Mandy with a shudder, "do you know I can't bear to look at an Indian since last week, and I used to like them." "Hardly fair, though, to blame the whole race for the deviltry of one specimen." "I know that, but " "This is a Sarcee camp, I fancy. They are a cunning lot and not the most reliable of the Indians. Let me see three four teepees.
"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.
"He makes all the little Chiefs, Blood, Piegan, Sarcee, Blackfeet obey him," said Cameron in a scornful voice, shading his face from the fire with his hand. This time Crowfoot made no reply. "But he has left this country for a while?" continued Cameron. Crowfoot grunted acquiescence. "My brother has not seen this Sioux for some weeks?"
I ought to have my force strengthened. Could you not immediately spare me at least eight or ten good men? I would like that chap Cameron, the man, you know, who caught the half-breed Louis in the Sarcee camp and carried him out on his horse's neck a very fine bit of work. Inspector Dickson will tell you about him. I had it from him. Could you spare Cameron?
Then: "There used to be a door between this house and the next," said Kerry succinctly. "My information is exact and given by someone who has often used that door." "Bloody liar," murmured Sin Sin Wa. "What!" shouted Kerry. "What did you say, you yellow-faced mongrel!" He clenched his fists and strode towards the Chinaman. "Sarcee feller catchee pullee leg," explained the unmoved Sin Sin Wa.
Following up the kick, Cameron took a single step forward and met the murderous Sarcee with a straight left-hand blow on the jaw that landed the Indian across the fire and deposited him kicking amid the crowd. Immediately there was a quick rush toward the white man, but the rush halted before two little black barrels with two hard, steady, gray eyes gleaming behind them.
Swift as a lightning flash the Sarcee sprang at Cameron, knife in hand, crying in the Blackfeet tongue that terrible cry so long dreaded by settlers in the Western States of America, "Death to the white man!"
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