"I desire no change in that regard," replied Cameron. "But, curiously enough, I have a letter this very mail that has a bearing upon this matter. Here it is. It is from an old college friend of mine, Dr. Martin."
The Inspector took the letter and read--"I have got myself used up, too great devotion to scientific research; hence I am accepting an offer from the railroad people for work in the mountains. I leave in a week. Think of it! The muck and the ruck, the execrable grub and worse drink! I shall have to work my passage on hand cars and doubtless by tie pass. My hands will lose all their polish. However, there may be some fun and likely some good practice. I see they are blowing themselves up at a great rate. Then, too, there is the prospective joy of seeing you, of whom quite wonderful tales have floated east to us.
I am told you are in direct line for the position of the High Chief Muck-a-muck of the Force. Look me up in Superintendent Strong's division. I believe he is the bulwark of the Empire in my district.
"A letter from the old burgh across the pond tells me your governor is far from well. Awfully sorry to hear it. It is rough on your sister, to whom, when you write, remember your humble servant.
"I am bringing out two nurses with me, both your devotees. Look out for squalls. If you get shot up see that you select a locality where the medical attendance and nursing are 'A 1'."
"It would be awfully good to see the old boy," said Cameron as he took the letter from the Inspector. "He is a decent chap and quite up-to-date in his profession."
"What about the nurses?" enquired the Inspector gravely.
"Oh, I don't know them. Never knew but one. A good bright little soul she was. Saw me through a typhoid trip. Little too clever sometimes," he added, remembering the day when she had taken her fun out of the slow-footed, slow-minded farmer's daughter.
"Well," said the Inspector, "we shall possibly come across them in our round-up. This is rather a big game, a very big game and one worth playing."
A bigger game it turned out than any of the players knew, bigger in its immediate sweep and in its nationwide issues.
For three months they swept the plains, haunting the reservations at unexpected moments. But though they found not a few horses and cattle whose obliterated brands seemed to warrant confiscation, and though there were signs for the instructed eye of evil doings in many an Indian camp, yet there was nothing connected with the larger game upon which the Inspector of Police could lay his hand.
Among the Bloods there were frequent sun-dances where many braves were made and much firewater drunk with consequent blood-letting.
Red Crow deprecated these occurrences, but confessed his powerlessness to prevent the flow of either firewater or of blood.
A private conversation with the Inspector left with the Chief some food for thought, however, and resulted in the cropping of the mane of White Horse, of whose comings and goings the Inspector was insistently curious.
On the Blackfeet reservation they ran into a great pow-wow of chiefs from far and near, to which old Crowfoot invited the representatives of the Great White Mother with impressive cordiality, an invitation, however, which the Inspector, such was his strenuous hunt for stolen horses, was forced regretfully to decline.
"Too smooth, old boy, too smooth!" was the Inspector's comment as they rode off. "There are doings there without doubt. Did you see the Cree and the Assiniboine?"
"I could not pick them out," said Cameron, "but I saw Louis the Breed."
"Ah, you did! He needs another term at the Police sanatarium."
They looked in upon the Sarcees and were relieved to find them frankly hostile. They had not forgotten the last visit of the Inspector and his friend.
"That's better," remarked the Inspector as they left the reservation. "Neither the hostile Indian nor the noisy Indian is dangerous. When he gets smooth and quiet watch him, like old Crowfoot. Sly old boy he is! But he will wait till he sees which way the cat jumps. He is no leader of lost causes."
At Morleyville they breathed a different atmosphere. They felt themselves to be among friends. The hand of the missionary here was upon the helm of government and the spirit of the missionary was the spirit of the tribe.
"Any trouble?" enquired the Inspector.
"We have a great many visitors these days," said the missionary.
"And some of our young men don't like hunger, and the offer of a full feast makes sweet music in their ears."
"Any sun-dances?"
"No, no, the sun-dances are all past. Our people are no longer pagans."
"Good man!" was the Inspector's comment as they took up the trail again toward the mountains. "And with quite a sufficient amount of the wisdom of the serpent in his guileless heart. We need not watch the Stonies. Here's a spot at least where religion pays.
And a mighty good thing for us just now," added the inspector.
"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."
"It was somewhere here that Raven fell in with you?"
"No, some ten miles off the line, down the old Kootenay trail."
"Aha!" said the Inspector. "It might not be a bad idea to beat up that same old trail. It is quite possible that we might fall in with your old friends."
"It would certainly be a great pleasure," replied Cameron, "to conduct Mr. Raven and his Indian friend over this same trail as they did me some nine months ago."
"We will take a chance on it," said the Inspector. "We lose time going back the other way."
Upon the site of McIvor's survey camp they found camped a large construction gang. Between the lines of tents, for the camp was ordered in streets like a city, they rode till they came to the headquarters of the Police, and enquired for the Superintendent.
