"Pull belt tight," said Jerry with a grin."Hit at cache on trail.""Do you mean to say you had the good sense to cache some grub, Jerry, on your way down?""Jerry lak' squirrel," replied the half-breed."Cache grub many place--sometam come good.""Great head, Jerry.Now, where is the cache?""Halfway Kananaskis to Ghost Reever."
"Then, Jerry, we must make that Ghost River trail and make it quick if we are to intercept Copperhead.""Bon! We mus' mak' beeg speed for sure." And "make big speed"they did, with the result that by midday they struck the trail not far from Jerry's cache.As they approached the trail they proceeded with extreme caution, for they knew that at any moment they might run upon Copperhead and his band or upon some of their Indian pursuers who would assuredly be following them hard.Acareful scrutiny of the trail showed that neither Copperhead nor their pursuers had yet passed by.
"Come now ver' soon," said Jerry, as he left the trail, and, plunging into the brush, led the way with unerring precision to where he had made his cache.Quickly they secured the food and with it made their way back to a position from which they could command a view of the trail.
"Go sleep now," said Jerry, after they had done."Me watch one hour."Gladly Cameron availed himself of the opportunity to catch up his sleep, in which he was many hours behind.He stretched himself on the ground and in a moment's time lay as completely unconscious as if dead.But before half of his allotted time was gone he was awakened by Jerry's hand pressing steadily upon his arm.
"Indian come," whispered the half-breed.Instantly Cameron was wide-awake and fully alert.
"How many, Jerry?" he asked, lying with his ear to the ground.
"Dunno.T'ree--four mebbe."
They had not long to wait.Almost as Jerry was speaking the figure of an Indian came into view, running with that tireless trot that can wear out any wild animal that roams the woods.
"Copperhead!" whispered Cameron, tightening his belt and making as if to rise.
"Wait!" replied Jerry."One more."
Following Copperhead, and running not close upon him but at some distance behind, came another Indian, then another, till three had passed their hiding-place.
"Four against two, Jerry," said Cameron."That is all right.They have their knives, I see, but only one gun.We have no guns and only one knife.But Jerry, we can go in and kill them with our bare hands."Jerry nodded carelessly.He had fought too often against much greater odds in Police battles to be unduly disturbed at the present odds.
Silently and at a safe distance behind they fell into the wake of the running Indians, Jerry with his moccasined feet leading the way.Mile after mile they followed the trail, ever on the alert for the doubling back of those whom they were pursuing.Suddenly Cameron heard a sharp hiss from Jerry in front.Swiftly he flung himself into the brush and lay still.Within a minute he saw coming back upon the trail an Indian, silent as a shadow and listening at every step.The Indian passed his hiding-place and for some minutes Cameron lay watching until he saw him return in the same stealthy manner.After some minutes had elapsed a soft hiss from Jerry brought Cameron cautiously out upon the trail once more.
"All right," whispered Jerry."All Indians pass on before." And once more they went forward.
A second time during the afternoon Jerry's warning hiss sent Cameron into the brush to allow an Indian to scout his back trail.
It was clear that the presence of Cameron and the half-breed upon the Ghost River trail had awakened the suspicion in Copperhead's mind that the plan to hold a powwow at Manitou Rock was known to the Police and that they were on his trail.It became therefore increasingly evident to Cameron that any plan that involved the possibility of taking Copperhead unawares would have to be abandoned.He called Jerry back to him.
"Jerry," he said, "if that Indian doubles back on his track again Imean to get him.If we get him the other chaps will follow.If Ionly had a gun! But this knife is no use to me.""Give heem to me," said Jerry eagerly."I find heem good."It was toward the close of the afternoon when again Jerry's hiss warned Cameron that the Indian was returning upon his trail.
Cameron stepped into the brush at the side, and, crouching low, prepared for the encounter, but as he was about to spring Jerry flashed past him, and, hurling himself upon the Indian's back, gripped him by the throat and bore him choking to earth, knocking the wind out of him and rendering him powerless.Jerry's knife descended once bright, once red, and the Indian with a horrible gasping cry lay still.
"Quick!" cried Cameron, seizing the dead man by the shoulders.
"Lift him up!"
Jerry sprang to seize the legs, and, taking care not to break down the brush on either side of the trail, they lifted the body into the thick underwood and concealing themselves beside it awaited events.Hardly were they out of sight when they heard the soft pad of several feet running down the trail.Opposite them the feet stopped abruptly.
"Huh!" grunted the Indian runner, and darted back by the way he had come.
"Heem see blood," whispered Jerry."Go back tell Copperhead."With every nerve strung to its highest tension they waited, crouching, Jerry tingling and quivering with the intensity of his excitement, Cameron quiet, cool, as if assured of the issue.
