The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail Part 17

"For a proper black night commend me to the prairie," said the doctor.

"It is the dead level does it, I believe. There is nothing to cast a reflection or a shadow."

"It will be better in a few minutes," said Cameron, "when we get our night sight."

"You are off the trail a bit, I think," said the doctor.

"Yes, I know. I am hitting toward the fire. The light makes it better going that way."

"I say, that chap appears to be going some. Quite a song and dance he's giving them," said the doctor, pointing to an Indian who in the full light of the camp fire was standing erect and, with hand outstretched, was declaiming to the others, who, kneeling or squatting about the fire, were giving him rapt attention. The erect figure and outstretched arm arrested Cameron. A haunting sense of familiarity floated across his memory.

"Let's go nearer," he said, "and quietly."

With extreme caution they made about two-thirds of the distance when a howl from an Indian dog revealed their presence. At once the speaker who had been standing in the firelight sank crouching to the ground.

Instantly Cameron ran forward a few swift steps and, like a hound upon a deer, leapt across the fire and fair upon the crouching Indian, crying "Call the Police, Martin!"

With a loud cry of "Police! Police! Help here!" Martin sprang into the middle of an excited group of Indians. Two of them threw themselves upon him, but with a hard right and left he laid them low and, seizing a stick of wood, sprang toward two others who were seeking to batter the life out of Cameron as he lay gripping his enemy by the throat with one hand and with the other by the wrist to check a knife thrust. Swinging his stick around his head and repeating his cry for help, Martin made Cameron's a.s.sailants give back a s.p.a.ce and before they could renew the attack Sergeant Crisp burst open the door of the Barracks, and, followed by a Slim young constable and the Superintendent, came rus.h.i.+ng with shouts upon the scene. Immediately upon the approach of the Police the Indians ceased the fight and all that could faded out of the light into the black night around them, while the Indian who continued to struggle with incredible fury to free himself from Cameron's grip suddenly became limp and motionless.

"Now, what's all this?" demanded the Sergeant. "Why, it's you, doctor, and where--? You don't mean that's Cameron there? h.e.l.lo, Cameron!" he said, leaning over him. "Let go! He's safe enough. We've got him all right. Let go! By Jove! Are they both dead?"

Here the Superintendent came up. The incidents leading up to the present situation were briefly described by the doctor.

"I can't get this fellow free," said the Sergeant, who was working hard to release the Indian's throat from the gripping fingers. He turned Cameron over on his back. He was quite insensible. Blood was pouring from his mouth and nose, but his fingers like steel clamps were gripping the wrist and throat of his foe. The Indian lay like dead.

"Good Lord, doctor! What shall we do?" cried the Superintendent. "Is he dead?"

"No," said Martin, with his hand upon Cameron's heart. "Bring water.

You can't loosen his fingers till he revives. The blow that knocked him senseless set those fingers as they are and they will stay set thus till released by returning consciousness."

"Here then, get water quick!" shouted the Superintendent to the slim young constable.

Gradually as the water was splashed upon his face Cameron came back to life and, relaxing his fingers, stretched himself with a sigh as of vast relief and lay still.

"Here, take that, you beast!" cried the Sergeant, das.h.i.+ng the rest of the water into the face of the Indian lying rigid and motionless on the ground. A long shudder ran through the Indian's limbs. Clutching at his throat with both hands, he raised himself to a sitting posture, his breath coming in raucous gasps, glared wildly upon the group, then sank back upon the ground, rolled over upon his side and lay twitching and breathing heavily, unheeded by the doctor and Police who were working hard over Cameron.

"No bones broken, I think," said the doctor, feeling the battered head.

"Here's where the blow fell that knocked him out," pointing to a ridge that ran along the side of Cameron's head. "A little lower, a little more to the front and he would never have moved. Let's get him in."

Cameron opened his eyes, struggled to speak and sank back again.

"Don't stir, old chap. You're all right. Don't move for a bit. Could you get a little brandy, Sergeant?"

Again the slim young constable rushed toward the Barracks and in a few moments returned with the spirits. After taking a sip of the brandy Cameron again opened his eyes and managed to say "Don't--"

"All right, old chap," said the doctor. "We won't move you yet. Just lie still a bit." But as once more Cameron opened his eyes the agony of the appeal in them aroused the doctor's attention. "Something wrong, eh?" he said. "Are you in pain, old boy?"

The appealing eyes closed, then, opening again, turned toward the Superintendent.

"Copperhead," he whispered.

"What do you say?" said the Superintendent kneeling down.

Once more with painful effort Cameron managed to utter the word "Copperhead."

"Copperhead!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the Superintendent in a low tense voice, springing to his feet and turning toward the unconscious Indian. "He's gone!" he cried with a great oath. "He's gone! Sergeant Crisp!" he shouted, "Call out the whole Force! Surround this camp and hold every Indian. Search every teepee for this fellow who was lying here. Quick!

Quick!" Leaving Cameron to the doctor, who in a few minutes became satisfied that no serious injury had been sustained, he joined in the search with fierce energy. The teepees were searched, the squaws and papooses were ruthlessly bundled out from their slumbers and with the Indians were huddled into the Barracks. But of the Sioux Chief there was no sign. He had utterly vanished. The black prairie had engulfed him.

But the Police had their own methods. Within a quarter of an hour half a dozen mounted constables were riding off in different directions to cover the main trails leading to the Indian reserves and to sweep a wide circle about the town.

"They will surely get him," said Dr. Martin confidently.

"Not much chance of it," growled Cameron, to whom with returning consciousness had come the bitter knowledge of the escape of the man he had come to regard as his mortal enemy. "I had him fast enough," he groaned, "in spite of the best he could do, and I would have choked his life out had it not been for these other devils."

"They certainly jumped in savagely," said Martin. "In fact I cannot understand how they got at the thing so quickly."

"Didn't you hear him call?" said Cameron. "It was his call that did it.

Something he said turned them into devils. They were bound to do for me.

I never saw Indians act like that."

"Yes, I heard that call, and it mighty near did the trick for you. Thank Heaven your thick Hielan' skull saved you."

"How did they let him go?" again groaned Cameron.

"How? Because he was too swift for us," said the Superintendent, who had come in, "and we too slow. I thought it was an ordinary Indian row, you see, but I might have known that you would not have gone in in that style without good reason. Who would think that this old devil should have the impudence to camp right here under our nose? Where did he come from anyway, do you suppose?"

"Been to the Blackfoot Reserve like enough and was on his way to the Sarcees when he fell in with this little camp of theirs."

"That's about it," replied the Superintendent gloomily. "And to think you had him fast and we let him go!"

The thought brought small comfort to any of them, least of all to Cameron. In that vast foothill country with all the hidings of the hills and hollows there was little chance that the Police would round up the fugitive, and upon Cameron still lay the task of capturing this cunning and resourceful foe.

"Never mind," said Martin cheerily. "Three out, all out. You'll get him next time."

"I don't know about that. But I'll get him some time or he'll get me,"

replied Cameron as his face settled into grim lines. "Let's get back."

"Are you quite fit?" inquired the Superintendent.

"Fit enough. Sore a bit in the head, but can navigate."

"I can't tell you how disappointed and chagrined I feel. It isn't often that my wits are so slow but--" The Superintendent's jaws here cut off his speech with a snap. The one crime reckoned unpardonable in the men under his own command was that of failure and his failure to capture old Copperhead thus delivered into his hands galled him terribly.

"Well, good-night, Cameron," said the Superintendent, looking out into the black night. "We shall let you know to-morrow the result of our scouting, though I don't expect much from it. He is much too clever to be caught in the open in this country."

"Perhaps he'll skidoo," said Dr. Martin hopefully.

"No, he's not that kind," replied the Superintendent. "You can't scare him out. You have got to catch him or kill him."

"I think you are right, sir," said Cameron. "He will stay till his work is done or till he is made to quit."