The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [45]
It was now the middle of the afternoon and it would take Moira an hour and a half over that rocky winding trail to make the ten miles that lay before her. Ten minutes more would see the Police started on their return. The doctor settled himself down to his three hours' wait, keeping his eye fixed upon the Indian. The latter was now busy with his meal, which he ate ravenously.
"The beggar has me tied up tight," muttered the doctor ruefully. "My grub is on my saddle, and I guess I dare not smoke till he lights up himself."
A hand touched his arm. Instantly he was on his feet. It was Moira.
"Great Caesar, you scared me! Thought it was the whole Blackfoot tribe."
"You will be the better for something to eat," she said simply, handing him the lunch basket. "Good-by."
"Hold up!" he cried. But she was gone.
"Say, she's a regular--" He paused and thought for a moment. "She's an angel, that's what--and a mighty sight better than most of them. She's a--" He turned back to his watch, leaving his thought unspoken. In the presence of the greater passions words are woefully inadequate.
The Indian was still eating as ravenously as ever.
"He's filling up, I guess. He ought to be full soon at that rate. Wish he'd get his pipe agoing."
In due time the Indian finished eating, rolled up the fragments carefully in a rag, and then proceeded to construct with the poles and brush which he had cut, a penthouse against the rock. At one end his little shelter thus constructed ran into a spruce tree whose thick branches reached right to the ground. When he had completed this shelter to his satisfaction he sat down again on the rock beside his smoldering fire and pulled out his pipe.
"Thanks be!" said the doctor to himself fervently. "Go on, old boy, hit her up."
A pipe and then another the Indian smoked, then, taking his gun, blanket and pack, he crawled into his brush wigwam out of sight.
"There, you old beggar!" said the doctor with a sigh of relief. "You are safe for an hour or two, thank goodness. You had no sleep last night and you've got to make up for it now. Sleep tight, old boy. We'll give you a call." The doctor hugged himself with supreme satisfaction and continued to smoke with his eye fixed upon the hole into which the Indian had disappeared.
Through the long hours he sat and smoked while he formulated the plan of attack which he proposed to develop when his reinforcements should arrive.
"We will work up behind him from away down the valley, a couple of us will cover him from the front and the others go right in."
He continued with great care to make and revise his plans, and while in the midst of his final revision a movement in the bushes behind him startled him to his feet. The bushes parted and the face of Moira appeared with that of her brother over her shoulder.
"Is he still there?" she whispered eagerly.
"Asleep, snug as a bug. Never moved," said the doctor exultantly, and proceeded to explain his plan of attack. "How many have you?" he asked Cameron.
"Crisp and a constable."
"Just two?" said the doctor.
"Two," replied Cameron briefly. "That's plenty. Here they are." He stepped back through the bushes and brought forward Crisp and the constable. "Now, then, here's our plan," he said. "You, Crisp, will go down the canyon, cross the stream and work up on the other side right to that rock. When you arrive at the rock the constable and I will go in. The doctor will cover him from this side."
"Fine!" said the doctor. "Fine, except that I propose to go in myself with you. He's a devil to fight. I could see that last night."
Cameron hesitated.
"There's really no use, you know, Doctor. The constable and I can handle him."
Moira stood looking eagerly from one to the other.
"All right," said the doctor, "'nuff said. Only I'm going in. If you want to come along, suit yourself."
"Oh, do be careful," said Moira, clasping her hands. "Oh, I'm afraid."
"Afraid?" said the doctor, looking at her quickly. "You? Not much fear in