through a fever and a broken leg?"

"Oh, she's up in the mountains still, in the construction camp.  I
proposed to bring her down here with me, but there was a riot.  I
barely escaped.  If ever she gets out from that camp it will be
when they are all asleep or when she is in a box car."

"Come along, then," cried Cameron.  "I have much to tell you, and
my wife will be glad to see you.  My sister comes in by No. 1, do
you know?"

"Your sister?  By No. 1?  You don't say!  Why, I never thought your
sister--by No. 1, eh?"

"Yes, by No. 1."

"Say, Doc," said the hotel man, breaking into the conversation.
"There's a bunch of 'em comin' in, ain't there?  Who's the lady you
was expectin' yourself on No. 1?"

"Lady?" said Cameron.  "What's this, Martin?"

"Me?  Wake up, Connolly, you're walking in your sleep," violently
signaling to the hotel man.

"Oh, it won't do, Martin," said Cameron with grave concern.  "You
may as well own up.  Who is it?  Come.  By Jove!  What?  A blush?
And on that asbestos cheek?  Something here, sure enough."

"Oh, rot, Cameron!  Connolly is a well-known somnambulist."

"Sure thing!" said Connolly.  "Is it catchin,' for I guess you had
the same thing last night?"

"Connolly, you've gone batty!  You need a nurse."

"A nurse?  Maybe so.  Maybe so.  But I guess you've got to the
point where you need a preacher.  Ha! ha!  Got you that time, Doc!"
laughed the hotel man, winking at Cameron.

"Oh, let it out, Martin.  You'll feel better afterward.  Who is
it?"

"Cameron, so help me!  Connolly is an infernal ass.  He's batty, I
tell you.  I'm treating him for it right now."

"All right," said Cameron, "never mind.  I shall run up and tell my
wife you are here.  Wait for me," he cried, as he ran up the
stairs.

"Connolly, you fool!  I'll knock your wooden block off!" said the
doctor in a fury.

"But, Doc, you did say--"

"Oh, confound you!  Shut up!  It was--"

"But you did say--"

"Will you shut up?"

"Certain, sure I'll shut up.  But you said--"

"Look here!" broke in the doctor impatiently.  "He'll be down in a
minute.  I don't want him to know."

"Aw, Doc, cut it out!  He ain't no Lady Clara."

"Connolly, close that trap of yours and listen to me.  This is
serious.  He'll be back in a jiffy.  It's the same lady as he is
going to meet."

"Same lady?  But she's his sister."

"Yes, of course, you idiot!  She's his sister.  And now you've
queered me with him and he will think--"

"Aw, Doc, let me be.  I'll straighten that tangle out."

"Sh-h!  Here he is.  Not a word, on your life!"

"Aw, get out!" replied Connolly with generous enthusiasm.  "I don't
leave no pard of mine in a hole.  Say," he cried, turning to
Cameron, "about that lady.  Ha! ha!"

"Shut your ugly mug!" said the doctor savagely.

"It's the same lady.  Ha! ha!  Good joke, eh, Sergeant?"

"Same lady?" echoed Cameron.

"Sure, same lady."

"What does he mean, Martin?"

"The man's drunk, Cameron.  He got a permit last week and he hasn't
been sober for a day since."

"Ha! ha!" laughed Connolly again.  "Wish I had a chance."

"But the lady?" said Cameron, looking at his friend suspiciously.
"And these blushes?"

"Oh, well, hang it!" said Martin.  "I suppose I might as well tell
you.  I found out that your sister was to be in on this train, and
in case you should not turn up I told Connolly here to have a room
ready."

"Oh," said Cameron, with his eyes upon his friend's face.  "You
found out?  And how did you find out that Moira was coming?"

"Well," said Martin, his face growing hotter with every word of
explanation, "you have a wife and we have a mutual friend in our
little nurse, and that's how I learned.  And so I thought I'd be on
hand anyway.  You remember I met your sister up at your Highland
home with the unpronounceable name."

"Ah, yes!  Cuagh Oir.  Dear old spot!" said Cameron reminiscently.
"Moira will be heart broken every day when she sees the Big Horn
Ranch, I'm afraid.  But here comes Mandy."

The meeting between the doctor and Cameron's wife was like that
between old comrades in arms, as indeed they had been through
many a hard fight with disease, accident and death during the
construction days along the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway
through the Rocky Mountains.

A jolly hour they had together at supper, exchanging news and
retailing the latest jokes.  And then Cameron told his friend
the story of old Copperhead and of the task laid upon him by
Superintendent Strong.  Martin listened in grave silence till the
tale was done, then said with quiet gravity:

"Cameron, this is a serious business.  Why!  It's--it's terrible."

"Yes," replied Mandy quickly, "but you can see that he must do it.
We have quite settled that.  You see there are the women and
children."

"And is there no one else?  Surely--"

"No, there is no one else quite so fit to do it," said Mandy.

"By Jove, you're a wonder!" cried Martin, his face lighting up with
sudden enthusiasm.

"Not much of a wonder," she replied, a quick tremor in her voice.
"Not much of a wonder, I'm afraid.  But how could I keep him?  I
couldn't keep him, could I," she said, "if his country needs him?"

The doctor glanced at her face with its appealing deep blue eyes.

"No, by Jove!  You couldn't keep him, not you."

"Now, Mandy," said Cameron, "you must upstairs and to bed."  He
read aright the signs upon her face.  "You are tired and you will
need all the sleep you can get.  Wait for me, Martin, I'll be down
in a few moments."

When they reached their room Cameron turned and took his wife in
his arms.

"Mandy! as Martin says, you are wonderful.  You are a brave woman.
You have nerve enough for both of us, and you will need to have
nerve for both, for how I am going to leave you I know not.  But
now you must to bed.  I have a little business to attend to."

"Business?" inquired his wife.

"Yes.  Oh, I won't try to hide it from you, Mandy.  It's 'The Big
Business.'  We are--Dr. Martin and I--going up to the Barracks.
Superintendent Strong has come down for a consultation."  He paused
and looked into his wife's face.  "I must go, dear."

"Yes, yes, I know, Allan.  You must go.  But--do you know--it's
foolish to say it, but as those Indians passed us I fancied I saw
the face of Copperhead."

"Hardly, I fancy," said her husband with a laugh.  "He'd know
better than run into this town in open day just now.  All Indians
will look to you like old Copperhead for a while."

"It may be so.  I fancy I'm a little nervous.  But come back soon."

"You may be sure of that, sweetheart.  Meantime sleep well."

The little town of Calgary stands on one of the most beautiful
town-sites in all the world.  A great plain with ramparts of hills
on every side, encircled by the twin mountain rivers, the Bow and
the Elbow, overlooked by rolling hills and far away to the west by
the mighty peaks of the Rockies, it holds at once ample space and
unusual picturesque beauty.  The little town itself was just
emerging from its early days as a railway construction-camp and was
beginning to develop ambitions toward a well-ordered business
activity and social stability.  It was an all-night town, for the
simple and sufficient reason that its communications with the world
lying to the east and to the west began with the arrival of No. 2
at half-past twelve at night and No. 1 at five o'clock next
morning.  Few of its citizens thought it worth while to settle down
for the night until after the departure of No. 2 on its westward
journey.

Through this "all-night" little town Cameron and the doctor took
their way.  The sidewalks were still thronged, the stores still
doing business, the restaurants, hotels, pool-rooms all wide open.
It kept Sergeant Crisp busy enough running out the "tin-horn"
gamblers and whisky-peddlers, keeping guard over the fresh and
innocent lambs that strayed in from the East and across from the
old land ready for shearing, and preserving law and order in this
hustling frontier town.  Money was still easy in the town, and had
Sergeant Crisp been minded for the mere closing of his eyes or
turning of his back upon occasion he might have retired early from
the Force with a competency.  Unhappily for Sergeant Crisp,
however, there stood in the pathway of his fortune the awkward fact
of his conscience and his oath of service.  Consequently he was
forced to grub along upon the munificent bounty of the daily pay
with which Her Majesty awarded the faithful service of the non-
coms. in her North West Mounted Police Force.  And indeed through
all the wide reaches of that great West land during those pioneer
days and among all the officers of that gallant force no record can
be found of an officer who counted fortune dearer than honor.

Through this wide awake, wicked, but well-watched little town
Cameron with his friend made his way westward toward the Barracks
to keep his appointment with his former Chief, Superintendent
Strong.  The Barracks stood upon the prairie about half a mile
distant from the town.  They found Superintendent Strong fuming
with impatience, which he controlled with difficulty while Cameron
presented his friend.

"Well, Cameron, you've come at last," was his salutation when the
introduction was completed.  "When did you get into town?  I have
been waiting all day to see you.  Where have you been?"

"Arrived an hour ago," said Cameron shortly, for he did not half
like the Superintendent's brusque manner.  "The trail was heavy
owing to the rain day before yesterday."

"When did you leave the ranch?" inquired Sergeant Crisp.

"Yesterday morning," said Cameron.  "The colts were green and I
couldn't send them along."

"Yesterday morning!" exclaimed Sergeant Crisp.  "You needn't
apologize for the colts, Cameron."

"I wasn't apologizing for anybody or anything.  I was making a
statement of fact," replied Cameron curtly.

"Ah, yes, very good going, Cameron.  Very good going, indeed, I
should say," said the Superintendent, conscious of his own
brusqueness and anxious to appease.  "Did Mrs. Cameron come with
you?"

"She did."

"Indeed.  That is a long drive for a lady to make, Cameron.  Too
long a drive, I should say.  I hope she is quite well, not--eh--
over-fatigued?"

"She is quite well, thank you."

"Well, she is an old campaigner," said the Superintendent with a
smile, "and not easily knocked up if I remember her aright.  But I
ought to say, Cameron, how very deeply I appreciate your very fine--
indeed very handsome conduct in volunteering to come to our
assistance in this matter.  Very handsome indeed I call it.  It
will have a good effect upon the community.  I appreciate the
sacrifice.  The Commissioner and the whole Force will appreciate
it.  But," he added, as if to himself, "before we are through with
this business I fear there will be more sacrifice demanded from
all of us.  I trust none of us will be found wanting."  The
Superintendent's voice was unduly solemn, his manner almost somber.
Cameron was impressed with this manifestation of feeling so unusual
with the Superintendent.

"Any more news, sir?" he inquired.

"Yes, every post brings news of seditious meetings up north along
the Saskatchewan and of indifference on the part of the Government.
And further, I have the most conclusive evidence that our Indians
are being tampered with, and successfully too.  There is no reason
to doubt that the head chiefs have been approached and that many of
the minor chiefs are listening to the proposals of Riel and his
half-breeds.  But you have some news to give, I understand?
Dickson said you would give me particulars."

Thereupon Cameron briefly related the incidents in connection with
the attempted arrest of the Sioux Chief, and closed with a brief
account of the burning of his home.

"That is most daring, most serious," exclaimed the Superintendent.
"But you are quite certain that it was the Sioux that was
responsible for the outrage?"

"Well," said Cameron, "he met my wife on a trail five miles away,
threatened her, and--"

"Good God, Cameron!  Threatened your wife?"

"Yes, nearly flung her off her horse," replied Cameron, his voice
quiet and even, but his eyes glowing like fires in his white face.

"Flung her off her horse?  But--he didn't injure her?" replied the
Superintendent.

"Only that he terrified her with his threats and then went on
toward the house, which he left in flames."

"My God, Cameron!" said the Superintendent, rising in his
excitement.  "This is really terrible.  You must have suffered
awful anxiety.  I apologize for my abrupt manner a moment ago," he
added, offering his hand.  "I'm awfully sorry."

"It's all right, Superintendent," replied Cameron.  "I'm afraid I
am a little upset myself."

"But what a God's mercy she escaped!  How came that, I wonder?"

Then Cameron told the story of the rescue of the Indian boy.

"That undoubtedly explains it," exclaimed the Superintendent.
"That was a most fortunate affair.  Do an Indian a good turn and
he will never forget it.  I shudder to think of what might have
happened, for I assure you that this Copperhead will stick at
nothing.  We have an unusually able man to deal with, and we shall
put our whole Force on this business of arresting this man.  Have
you any suggestions yourself?"

"No," said Cameron, "except that it would appear to be a mistake to
give any sign that we were very specially anxious to get him just
now.  So far we have not shown our hand.  Any concentrating of the
Force upon his capture would only arouse suspicion and defeat our
aim, while my going after him, no matter how keenly, will be
accounted for on personal grounds."

"There is something in that, but do you think you can get him?"

"I am going to get him," said Cameron quietly.

The superintendent glanced at his face.

"By Jove, I believe you will!  But remember, you can count on me
and on my Force to a man any time and every time to back you up,
and there's my hand on it.  And now, let's get at this thing.  We
have a cunning devil to do with and he has gathered about him the
very worst elements on the reserves."

Together they sat and made their plans till far on into the night.
But as a matter of fact they could make little progress.  They knew
well it would be extremely difficult to discover their man.  Owing
to the state of feeling throughout the reserves the source of
information upon which the Police ordinarily relied had suddenly
dried up or become untrustworthy.  A marked change had come over
the temper of the Indians.  While as yet they were apparently on
friendly terms and guilty of no open breach of the law, a sullen
and suspicious aloofness marked the bearing of the younger braves
and even of some of the chiefs toward the Police.  Then, too, among
the Piegans in the south and among the Sarcees whose reserve was in
the neighborhood of Calgary an epidemic of cattle-stealing had
broken out and the Police were finding it increasingly difficult to
bring the criminals to justice.  Hence with this large increase in
crime and with the changed attitude and temper of the Indians

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