The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [2]
plans with his subordinate officers until it became necessary. "What you keep behind your teeth," was a favorite maxim with the Superintendent, "will harm neither yourself nor any other man." They were on the old Kootenay Trail, for a hundred years and more the ancient pathway of barter and of war for the Indian tribes that hunted the western plains and the foothill country and brought their pelts to the coast by way of the Columbia River. Along the lower levels the old trail ran, avoiding, with the sure instinct of a skilled engineer, nature's obstacles, and taking full advantage of every sloping hillside and every open stretch of woods. Now and then, however, the trail must needs burrow through a deep thicket of spruce and jack pine and scramble up a rocky ridge, where the horses, trained as they were in mountain climbing, had all they could do to keep their feet.
Ten miles and more they followed the tortuous trail, skirting mountain peaks and burrowing through underbrush, scrambling up rocky ridges and sliding down their farther sides, till they came to a park-like country where from the grassy sward the big Douglas firs, trimmed clear of lower growth and standing spaced apart, lifted on red and glistening trunks their lofty crowns of tufted evergreen far above the lesser trees.
As they approached the open country the Superintendent proceeded with greater caution, pausing now and then to listen.
"There ought to be a big powwow going on somewhere near," he said to his Sergeant, "but I can hear nothing. Can you?"
The Sergeant leaned over his horse's ears.
"No, sir, not a sound."
"And yet it can't be far away," growled the Superintendent.
The trail led through the big firs and dipped into a little grassy valley set round with thickets on every side. Into this open glade they rode. The Superintendent was plainly disturbed and irritated; irritated because surprised and puzzled. Where he had expected to find a big Indian powwow he found only a quiet sunny glade in the midst of a silent forest. Sergeant Ferry waited behind him in respectful silence, too wise to offer any observation upon the situation. Hence in the Superintendent grew a deeper irritation.
"Well, I'll be--!" He paused abruptly. The Superintendent rarely used profanity. He reserved this form of emphasis for supreme moments. He was possessed of a dramatic temperament and appreciated at its full value the effect of a climax. The climax had not yet arrived, hence his self-control.
"Exactly so," said the Sergeant, determined to be agreeable.
"What's that?"
"They don't seem to be here, sir," replied the Sergeant, staring up into the trees.
"Where?" cried the Superintendent, following the direction of the Sergeant's eyes. "Do you suppose they're a lot of confounded monkeys?"
"Exactly--that is--no, sir, not at all, sir. But--"
"They were to have been here," said the Superintendent angrily. "My information was most positive and trustworthy."
"Exactly so, sir," replied the Sergeant. "But they haven't been here at all!" The Superintendent impatiently glared at the Sergeant, as if he were somehow responsible for this inexplicable failure upon the part of the Indians.
"Exactly--that is--no, sir. No sign. Not a sign." The Sergeant was most emphatic.
"Well, then, where in--where--? The Superintendent felt himself rapidly approaching an emotional climax and took himself back with a jerk. "Well," be continued, with obvious self-control, "let's look about a bit."
With keen and practised eyes they searched the glade, and the forest round about it, and the trails leading to it.
"Not a sign," said the Superintendent emphatically, "and for the first time in my experience Pinault is wrong--the very first time. He was dead sure."
"Pinault--generally right, sir," observed the Sergeant.
"Always."
"Exactly so. But this time--"
"He's been fooled," declared the Superintendent. "A big sun dance was planned for this identical spot. They were all to be here, every tribe represented, the Stonies even
Ten miles and more they followed the tortuous trail, skirting mountain peaks and burrowing through underbrush, scrambling up rocky ridges and sliding down their farther sides, till they came to a park-like country where from the grassy sward the big Douglas firs, trimmed clear of lower growth and standing spaced apart, lifted on red and glistening trunks their lofty crowns of tufted evergreen far above the lesser trees.
As they approached the open country the Superintendent proceeded with greater caution, pausing now and then to listen.
"There ought to be a big powwow going on somewhere near," he said to his Sergeant, "but I can hear nothing. Can you?"
The Sergeant leaned over his horse's ears.
"No, sir, not a sound."
"And yet it can't be far away," growled the Superintendent.
The trail led through the big firs and dipped into a little grassy valley set round with thickets on every side. Into this open glade they rode. The Superintendent was plainly disturbed and irritated; irritated because surprised and puzzled. Where he had expected to find a big Indian powwow he found only a quiet sunny glade in the midst of a silent forest. Sergeant Ferry waited behind him in respectful silence, too wise to offer any observation upon the situation. Hence in the Superintendent grew a deeper irritation.
"Well, I'll be--!" He paused abruptly. The Superintendent rarely used profanity. He reserved this form of emphasis for supreme moments. He was possessed of a dramatic temperament and appreciated at its full value the effect of a climax. The climax had not yet arrived, hence his self-control.
"Exactly so," said the Sergeant, determined to be agreeable.
"What's that?"
"They don't seem to be here, sir," replied the Sergeant, staring up into the trees.
"Where?" cried the Superintendent, following the direction of the Sergeant's eyes. "Do you suppose they're a lot of confounded monkeys?"
"Exactly--that is--no, sir, not at all, sir. But--"
"They were to have been here," said the Superintendent angrily. "My information was most positive and trustworthy."
"Exactly so, sir," replied the Sergeant. "But they haven't been here at all!" The Superintendent impatiently glared at the Sergeant, as if he were somehow responsible for this inexplicable failure upon the part of the Indians.
"Exactly--that is--no, sir. No sign. Not a sign." The Sergeant was most emphatic.
"Well, then, where in--where--? The Superintendent felt himself rapidly approaching an emotional climax and took himself back with a jerk. "Well," be continued, with obvious self-control, "let's look about a bit."
With keen and practised eyes they searched the glade, and the forest round about it, and the trails leading to it.
"Not a sign," said the Superintendent emphatically, "and for the first time in my experience Pinault is wrong--the very first time. He was dead sure."
"Pinault--generally right, sir," observed the Sergeant.
"Always."
"Exactly so. But this time--"
"He's been fooled," declared the Superintendent. "A big sun dance was planned for this identical spot. They were all to be here, every tribe represented, the Stonies even