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Updated: June 9, 2025
I was with her to-day when Onistah came in and told us what this West was going to do. There wasn't time for me to reach Father. I couldn't trust anybody at Whoop-Up, and I was afraid if Onistah came alone, you wouldn't believe him. You know how people are about about Indians. So I saddled a horse and rode with him." "That was fine of you.
"Whoop-Up by noon," Barney predicted. "Yes, by noon," Tom Morse agreed. "In time for a real sure-enough dinner with potatoes and beans and green stuff." "Y' bet yore boots, an' honest to gosh gravy," added Brad Stearns, a thin and wrinkled little man whose leathery face and bright eyes defied the encroachment of time.
He won because he serenely expected to win, and because there was back of him a silent, impalpable force as irresistible as the movement of a glacier. Beresford must have known that the men who lived at Whoop-Up were unfriendly to the North-West Mounted. Some of them had been put out of business. Their property had been destroyed and confiscated. Fines had been imposed on them.
For one thing he would soon be a partner in the firm of C.N. Morse & Company, of Fort Benton, one of the biggest trading outfits in the country. West could not afford to break with the Morse interests. With their diminished cargo the traders pushed north. Their destination was Whoop-Up, at the junction of the Belly and the St. Mary's Rivers.
There was a little knitted frown of worry on her forehead, for imagination could fill in details of what the coulée held: the white canvas tops of prairie schooners, some spans of oxen grazing near, a group of blatant, profane whiskey-smugglers from Montana, and in the wagons a cargo of liquor to debauch the Bloods and Piegans near Fort Whoop-Up. Sleeping Dawn was a child of impulse.
Then you'll enjoy the little show I'm putting on five thousand dollars' worth of liquor spilt all at one time." "Holy Moses! Where is this blind tiger you're raidin'?" "Down in the gully. Lucky you happened along just by chance. You'll be able to carry the good news to Whoop-Up and adjacent points." "You're not really aimin' to spill all that whiskey." "That's my intention. Any objections?"
Jessie waited on the table herself. She set upon it such a dinner as neither of her guests had eaten in years. Venison broiled to a turn, juicy, succulent mallard ducks from the cold storage of their larder, mashed potatoes with gravy, young boiled onions from Whoop-Up, home-made rubaboo of delicious flavor, hot biscuits and wild-strawberry jam!
"Blandoine is leavin' for Whoop-Up in the mornin'. I came to see your father about those robes. If we buy, it'll have to be now. I can send 'em down with Blandoine," he explained. She nodded, briskly. "Father said you could have them at your price if you'll pay what he asked for those not split. They're good hides cows and young bulls."
"You mean about the whipping?" Beresford asked gently. "That's all," Morse answered bitterly. "Nothing a-tall. I merely had her horsewhipped. You wouldn't think any girl would object to that, would you?" "I'd like to hear the right of it. How did it happen?" "The devil was in me, I reckon. We were runnin' across the line that consignment of whiskey you found and destroyed near Whoop-Up.
"Can you let me have a horse for a few days and charge it to the Force? I've lost mine." Some one sniggered offensively. Barney had evidently reached Whoop-Up and was in hiding. "Your horse came in a while ago, constable," Madden said civilly. "It's in the corral back of the store." "Did it come in without a rider?" Beresford asked. The question was unnecessary.
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