The Patrol of the Sun Dance Trail | Page 3

crowns of tufted evergreen far above the lesser trees.
As they approached the open country the Superintendent proceeded with greater caution, pausing now and then to listen.
"There ought to be a big powwow going on somewhere near," he said to his Sergeant, "but I can hear nothing. Can you?"
The Sergeant leaned over his horse's ears.
"No, sir, not a sound."
"And yet it can't be far away," growled the Superintendent.
The trail led through the big firs and dipped into a little grassy valley set round with thickets on every side. Into this open glade they rode. The Superintendent was plainly disturbed and irritated; irritated because surprised and puzzled. Where he had expected to find a big Indian powwow he found only a quiet sunny glade in the midst of a silent forest. Sergeant Ferry waited behind him in respectful silence, too wise to offer any observation upon the situation. Hence in the Superintendent grew a deeper irritation.
"Well, I'll be--!" He paused abruptly. The Superintendent rarely used profanity. He reserved this form of emphasis for supreme moments. He was possessed of a dramatic temperament and appreciated at its full value the effect of a climax. The climax had not yet arrived, hence his self-control.
"Exactly so," said the Sergeant, determined to be agreeable.
"What's that?"
"They don't seem to be here, sir," replied the Sergeant, staring up into the trees.
"Where?" cried the Superintendent, following the direction of the Sergeant's eyes. "Do you suppose they're a lot of confounded monkeys?"
"Exactly--that is--no, sir, not at all, sir. But--"
"They were to have been here," said the Superintendent angrily. "My information was most positive and trustworthy."
"Exactly so, sir," replied the Sergeant. "But they haven't been here at all!" The Superintendent impatiently glared at the Sergeant, as if he were somehow responsible for this inexplicable failure upon the part of the Indians.
"Exactly--that is--no, sir. No sign. Not a sign." The Sergeant was most emphatic.
"Well, then, where in--where--?" The Superintendent felt himself rapidly approaching an emotional climax and took himself back with a jerk. "Well," he continued, with obvious self-control, "let's look about a bit."
With keen and practised eyes they searched the glade, and the forest round about it, and the trails leading to it.
"Not a sign," said the Superintendent emphatically, "and for the first time in my experience Pinault is wrong--the very first time. He was dead sure."
"Pinault--generally right, sir," observed the Sergeant.
"Always."
"Exactly so. But this time--"
"He's been fooled," declared the Superintendent. "A big sun dance was planned for this identical spot. They were all to be here, every tribe represented, the Stonies even had been drawn into it, some of the young bloods I suppose. And, more than that, the Sioux from across the line."
"The Sioux, eh?" said the Sergeant. "I didn't know the Sioux were in this."
"Ah, perhaps not, but I have information that the Sioux--in fact--" here the Superintendent dropped his voice and unconsciously glanced about him, "the Sioux are very much in this, and old Copperhead himself is the moving spirit of the whole business."
"Copperhead!" exclaimed the Sergeant in an equally subdued tone.
"Yes, sir, that old devil is taking a hand in the game. My information was that he was to have been here to-day, and, by the Lord Harry! if he had been we would have put him where the dogs wouldn't bite him. The thing is growing serious."
"Serious!" exclaimed the Sergeant in unwonted excitement. "You just bet--that is exactly so, sir. Why the Sioux must be good for a thousand."
"A thousand!" exclaimed the Superintendent. "I've the most positive information that the Sioux could place in the war path two thousand fighting-men inside of a month. And old Copperhead is at the bottom of it all. We want that old snake, and we want him badly." And the Superintendent swung on to his horse and set off on the return trip.
"Well, sir, we generally get what we want in that way," volunteered the Sergeant, following his chief.
"We do--in the long run. But in this same old Copperhead we have the acutest Indian brain in all the western country. Sitting Bull was a fighter, Copperhead is a schemer."
They rode in silence, the Sergeant busy with a dozen schemes whereby he might lay old Copperhead by the heels; the Superintendent planning likewise. But in the Superintendent's plans the Sergeant had no place. The capture of the great Sioux schemer must be entrusted to a cooler head than that of the impulsive, daring, loyal-hearted Sergeant.
CHAPTER II
HIS COUNTRY'S NEED
For full five miles they rode in unbroken silence, the Superintendent going before with head pressed down on his breast and eyes fixed upon the winding trail. A heavy load lay upon him. True, his immediate sphere of duty lay along the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway, but as an officer of Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police he shared with the