The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail [70]
carried through. Hence with joyous heart he followed Cameron into the Indian camp.
The morning hour is the hour of coolest reason. The fires of emotion and imagination have not yet begun to burn. The reactions from anything like rash action previously committed under the stimulus of a heated imagination are caution and timidity, and upon these reactions Cameron counted when he rode boldly into the Indian camp.
With one swift glance his eye swept the camp and lighted upon the Sioux Chief in the center of a group of younger men, his tall commanding figure and haughty carriage giving him an outstanding distinction over those about him. At his side stood a young Piegan Chief, Eagle Feather by name, whom Cameron knew of old as a restless, talkative Indian, an ambitious aspirant for leadership without the qualities necessary to such a position. Straight to this group Cameron rode.
"Good morning!" he said, saluting the group. "Ah, good morning, Eagle Feather!"
Eagle Feather grunted an indistinct reply.
"Big Hunt, eh? Are you in command of this party, Eagle Feather? No? Who then is?"
The Piegan turned and pointed to a short thick set man standing by another fire, whose large well shaped head and penetrating eye indicated both force and discretion.
"Ah, Running Stream," cried Cameron. "Come over here, Running Stream. I am glad to see you, for I wish to talk to a man of wisdom."
Slowly and with dignified, almost unwilling step Running Stream approached. As he began to move, but not before, Cameron went to meet him.
"I wish to talk with you," said Cameron in a quiet firm tone.
"Huh," grunted Running Stream.
"I have a matter of importance to speak to you about," continued Cameron.
Running Stream's keen glance searched his face somewhat anxiously.
"I find, Running Stream, that your young men are breaking faith with their friends, the Police."
Again the Chief searched Cameron's face with that keen swift glance, but he said not a word, only waited.
"They are breaking the law as well, and I want to tell you they will be punished. Where did they get the meat for these kettles?"
A look of relief gleamed for one brief instant across the Indian's face, not unnoticed, however, by Cameron.
"Why do your young men steal my cattle?"
The Indian evinced indifference.
"Dunno--deer--mebbe--sheep."
"My brother speaks like a child," said Cameron quietly. "Do deer and sheep have steers' heads and hides with brands on? Four heads I find in the bluff. The Commissioner will ask you to explain these hides and heads, and let me tell you, Running Stream, that the thieves will spend some months in jail. They will then have plenty of time to think of their folly and their wickedness."
An ugly glance shot from the Chief's eyes.
"Dunno," he grunted again, then began speaking volubly in the Indian tongue.
"Speak English, Running Stream!" commanded Cameron. "I know you can speak English well enough."
But Running Stream shook his head and continued his speech in Indian, pointing to a bluff near by.
Cameron looked toward Jerry, who interpreted:
"He say young men tak' deer and sheep and bear. He show you skins in bluff."
"Come," said Running Stream, supplementing Jerry's interpretation and making toward the bluff. Cameron followed him and came upon the skins of three jumping deer, of two mountain sheep and of two bear. They turned back again to the fire.
"My young men no take cattle," said the Chief with haughty pride.
"Maybe so," said Cameron, "but some of your party have, Running Stream, and the Commissioner will look to you. You are in command here. He will give you a chance to clear yourself."
The Indian shrugged his shoulders and stood silent.
"My brother is not doing well," continued Cameron. "The Government feed you if you are hungry. The Government protect you if you are wronged."
It was an unfortunate word of Cameron's. A sudden cloud of anger darkened the Indian's face.
"No!" he cried aloud. "My children--my squaw and my people go hungry--go
The morning hour is the hour of coolest reason. The fires of emotion and imagination have not yet begun to burn. The reactions from anything like rash action previously committed under the stimulus of a heated imagination are caution and timidity, and upon these reactions Cameron counted when he rode boldly into the Indian camp.
With one swift glance his eye swept the camp and lighted upon the Sioux Chief in the center of a group of younger men, his tall commanding figure and haughty carriage giving him an outstanding distinction over those about him. At his side stood a young Piegan Chief, Eagle Feather by name, whom Cameron knew of old as a restless, talkative Indian, an ambitious aspirant for leadership without the qualities necessary to such a position. Straight to this group Cameron rode.
"Good morning!" he said, saluting the group. "Ah, good morning, Eagle Feather!"
Eagle Feather grunted an indistinct reply.
"Big Hunt, eh? Are you in command of this party, Eagle Feather? No? Who then is?"
The Piegan turned and pointed to a short thick set man standing by another fire, whose large well shaped head and penetrating eye indicated both force and discretion.
"Ah, Running Stream," cried Cameron. "Come over here, Running Stream. I am glad to see you, for I wish to talk to a man of wisdom."
Slowly and with dignified, almost unwilling step Running Stream approached. As he began to move, but not before, Cameron went to meet him.
"I wish to talk with you," said Cameron in a quiet firm tone.
"Huh," grunted Running Stream.
"I have a matter of importance to speak to you about," continued Cameron.
Running Stream's keen glance searched his face somewhat anxiously.
"I find, Running Stream, that your young men are breaking faith with their friends, the Police."
Again the Chief searched Cameron's face with that keen swift glance, but he said not a word, only waited.
"They are breaking the law as well, and I want to tell you they will be punished. Where did they get the meat for these kettles?"
A look of relief gleamed for one brief instant across the Indian's face, not unnoticed, however, by Cameron.
"Why do your young men steal my cattle?"
The Indian evinced indifference.
"Dunno--deer--mebbe--sheep."
"My brother speaks like a child," said Cameron quietly. "Do deer and sheep have steers' heads and hides with brands on? Four heads I find in the bluff. The Commissioner will ask you to explain these hides and heads, and let me tell you, Running Stream, that the thieves will spend some months in jail. They will then have plenty of time to think of their folly and their wickedness."
An ugly glance shot from the Chief's eyes.
"Dunno," he grunted again, then began speaking volubly in the Indian tongue.
"Speak English, Running Stream!" commanded Cameron. "I know you can speak English well enough."
But Running Stream shook his head and continued his speech in Indian, pointing to a bluff near by.
Cameron looked toward Jerry, who interpreted:
"He say young men tak' deer and sheep and bear. He show you skins in bluff."
"Come," said Running Stream, supplementing Jerry's interpretation and making toward the bluff. Cameron followed him and came upon the skins of three jumping deer, of two mountain sheep and of two bear. They turned back again to the fire.
"My young men no take cattle," said the Chief with haughty pride.
"Maybe so," said Cameron, "but some of your party have, Running Stream, and the Commissioner will look to you. You are in command here. He will give you a chance to clear yourself."
The Indian shrugged his shoulders and stood silent.
"My brother is not doing well," continued Cameron. "The Government feed you if you are hungry. The Government protect you if you are wronged."
It was an unfortunate word of Cameron's. A sudden cloud of anger darkened the Indian's face.
"No!" he cried aloud. "My children--my squaw and my people go hungry--go