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Updated: June 12, 2025
"These Stonies in the old days were perfect devils for fighting. They are a mountain people and for generations kept the passes against all comers. But Macdougall has changed all that." Leaving the reservation, they came upon the line of the railway. "There lies my old trail," said Cameron. "And my last camp was only about two miles west of here."
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 if he values his life," said Harding drily. "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.
The Stonies had come by the right hand trail and were now camped off the trail on a little sheltered bench further down the side of the mountain and surrounded by a scattering group of tall pines. Through the misty night their camp fires burned cheerily, lighting up their lodges.
Will the Chief of the Stonies, the Chief of the Bloods, the Chief of the Piegans say the same for their young men?" "The Stonies take no cattle," answered an Indian whom Cameron recognized as the leading representative of that tribe present. "How many Stonies here?" The Indian held up six fingers. "Ha, only six. What about the Bloods and the Piegans?" demanded Cameron.
For reasons of your own, you sent us into a belt of country which you thought we couldn't possibly get through. You expected us to be held up there until our provisions ran out and winter set in, when these Stonies would no doubt have moved on. Well, part of what you wished has happened; but the matter is taking a turn you couldn't have looked for.
"I'm camped with two half-breeds a little way back. 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 folk 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.
The beasts were tethered, and dark as was that prairie night, these two girls with skill as unerring as the instinct of a pair of night-hawks could come back and find them. Then they struck out through the long grass, and made for the bluff where lay the Stonies and their prisoners. "Now, if we can find their ponies!" Annette said. "Wherefore look for their ponies, mademoiselle?"
When he had finished it, they fell into conversation and Benson, who understood him best, told Harding that he had been trapping in the neighborhood. His tribe lived some distance off, and though there were some Stonies not far away, he would not go to them for supplies. They were, he said, quarrelsome people. Harding looked interested. "Ask the fellow where the village is!"
He meant to abduct the doctor, who himself was dangerous to meddle with, from an Indian village where he apparently was held in great esteem. The Stonies, living far remote, had escaped the chastening influence of an occasional visit from the patrols of the North-West Police; they knew nothing of law and order. Moreover, there was a possibility that Clarke might prove too clever for his abductor.
These Stonies report mountain sheep as still to be found in all of the mountain country they roam in. Their hunting ground is about 400 miles long by 150 broad, and is principally confined to the Rocky Mountain range."
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