The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail | Page 5

expectant.
"Never mind," said the Superintendent. "Why rush the thing, I say?"
"Well, sir, I did hear that there was a sudden change in Cameron's
home affairs in Scotland, sir. His father died suddenly, I believe. The
estate was sold up and his sister, the only other child, was left all alone.
Cameron felt it necessary to get a home together--though I don't
suppose he needed any excuse. Never saw a man so hard hit myself."
"Except yourself, Sergeant, eh?" said the Superintendent, relaxing into
a grim smile.
"Oh, well, of course, sir, I'm not going to deny it. But you see,"
continued the Sergeant, his pride being touched, "he had known her
down East--worked on her father's farm--young gentleman--fresh from
college--culture, you know, manner--style and that sort of thing--rushed
her clean off her feet."
"I thought you said it was Cameron who was the one hard hit?"
"So it was, sir. Hadn't seen her for a couple of years or so. Left her a
country lass, uncouth, ignorant--at least so they say."
"Who say?"
"Well, her friends--Dr. Martin and the nurse at the hospital. But I can't
believe them, simply impossible. That this girl two years ago should
have been an ignorant, clumsy, uncouth country lass is impossible.
However, Cameron came on her here, transfigured, glorified so to
speak, consequently fell over neck in love, went quite batty in fact. A
secret flame apparently smoldering all these months suddenly burst into
a blaze--a blaze, by Jove!--regular conflagration. And no wonder, sir,
when you look at her, her face, her form, her style--"
"Oh, come, Sergeant, we'll move on. Let's keep at the business in hand.
The question is what's to do. That old snake Copperhead is three
hundred miles from here on the Sun Dance, plotting hell for this

country, and we want him. As you say, Cameron's our man. I wonder,"
continued the Superintendent after a pause, "I wonder if we could get
him."
"I should say certainly not!" replied the Sergeant promptly. "He's only a
few months married, sir."
"He might," mused the Superintendent, "if it were properly put to him.
It would be a great thing for the Service. He's the man. By the Lord
Harry, he's the only man! In short," with a resounding whack upon his
thigh, "he has got to come. The situation is too serious for trifling."
"Trifling?" said the Sergeant to himself in undertone.
"We'll go for him. We'll send for him." The Superintendent turned and
glanced at his companion.
"Not me, sir, I hope. You can quite see, sir, I'd be a mighty poor
advocate. Couldn't face those blue eyes, sir. They make me grow quite
weak. Chills and fever--in short, temporary delirium."
"Oh, well, Sergeant," replied the Superintendent, "if it's as bad as
that--"
"You don't know her, sir. Those eyes! They can burn in blue flame or
melt in--"
"Oh, yes, yes, I've no doubt." The Superintendent's voice had a touch of
pity, if not contempt. "We won't expose you, Sergeant. But all the same
we'll make a try for Cameron." His voice grew stern. His lips drew to a
line. "And we'll get him."
The Sergeant's horse took a sudden plunge forward.
"Here, you beast!" he cried, with a fierce oath. "Come back here!
What's the matter with you?" He threw the animal back on his
haunches with a savage jerk, a most unaccustomed thing with the
Sergeant.

"Yes," pursued the Superintendent, "the situation demands it.
Cameron's the man. It's his old stamping-ground. He knows every twist
of its trails. And he's a wonder, a genius for handling just such a
business as this."
The Sergeant made no reply. He was apparently having some trouble
with his horse.
"Of course," continued the Superintendent, with a glance at his
Sergeant's face, "it's hard on her, but--" dismissing that feature of the
case lightly--"in a situation like this everything must give way. The
latest news is exceedingly grave. The trouble along the Saskatchewan
looks to me exceedingly serious. These half-breeds there have real
grievances. I know them well, excitable, turbulent in their spirits,
uncontrollable, but easily handled if decently treated. They've sent their
petitions again and again to Ottawa, and here are these Members of
Parliament making fool speeches, and the Government pooh-poohing
the whole movement, and meantime Riel orating and organizing."
"Riel? Who's he?" inquired the Sergeant.
"Riel? You don't know Riel? That's what comes of being an island-bred
Britisher. You people know nothing outside your own little two by four
patch on the world's map. Haven't you heard of Riel?"
"Oh, yes, by the way, I've heard about the Johnny. Mixed up in
something before in this country, wasn't he?"
"Well, rather! The rebel leader of 1870. Cost us some considerable
trouble, too. There's bound to be mischief where