Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police: A Tale of the Macleod Trail

ire. On sharpened sticks slices of venison were cooking for his supper. Outside the storm raged with greater violence than ever and into the cave th

intain this fight? His heart sank at the prospect of the long night before him. He sat d

r the sticks were mere brushwood. A terrible fear seized him. His life depended upon the maintaining of this fire. Carefully he assembled the embers and nursed them into

er to keep himself awake and to provide against the growing cold he would lay in a stock of fi

hythmic sound. With every nerve strained he listened. It was like the beating of hoofs. He ran out into the storm and, holding his hands to

re all the brushwood he had gathered, until it sprang up into a great glare, lighting up the cave and its s

oured and multitudinously cursed brutes!-Three cheers for the re

on at the top of his

und of hoof beats ceased and only the

ain. "Who are you?" But o

lied. Once more he rushed into the cave, se

llets spat against th

ging back behind the rock. "What are you shoot

s should abandon him, he ran forward once more beyond the ledge of t

s powers to catch some sound other than the dull boom and

our hands

st straight before it, loom

y-" began

ith a terrible oath, "or I

h his rifle high above his head. "But hurry up! I c

ing him with his pistol. He ran h

he asked, in a vo

But hurry up! I

ranger. "But if you want to live, n

fingers. Almost immediately, it seemed to Cameron, there came into the light another man who proved to be an Indian, short, heavily built, with a fa

possessed himself of Cameron's

uick. Who are you? How did you co

wounded it, followed it up, lost my way, the storm caught me, but, thank God, I found this cave

tranger never left Cameron's

Cameron had finished his tale. "You look to me l

berate insolence of the man stirred Cameron to

oking voice, gathering himself

o the Indian behind him. Before he could move Cameron found himself

, drop it!" said the str

y the rifl

ods are full of horse thieves and whiskey runners. Oh, come on," he continued, glancing at Cameron's face, "I apologise. So you're lost, eh? Hungry too? Well, so am I, and though I w

grunted a r

r." He took Cameron's rifle from the Indian and set it in

nger appeared with a load of dry wood with which he built up a blazing fire. He was followed shortly by the Indian, who fro

n in which the bacon and venison had been fried. "Pass the

enerous warmth of the big fire and under the stimulus of the

s deep set brown-grey eyes that glittered like steel or shone like limpid pools of light according to the mood of the man. They were extraordinary eyes. Cameron remembered them like dagger points behind the pistol and then like kindly lights in a dark window when he had smiled. Just now as he sat eating with eager haste the eyes were staring forward into the fir

rd Colebrooke Raven-Dick for short; rancher, horse and cattle trader; East Kootenay; at prese

m from Edinburgh a year ag

uiet old town, quaint folk. Never kn

ed, critical but uncurious gaze with which the dwellers

d. "I came from

steadily into the fire. Suddenly, with extraordinary en

cried, "

ed Cameron, ris

ll the way, and h

kindly leave me some grub and some matches I shall be all right a

od for a few moments in deep thought, then spoke to the Indian a few words in his own

you cold-blooded devil," replied the trader. "No! But," he added with emphasis, "we will take him with us. Pack! Her

but dived into the storm and in a few moments returned bear

y chief this way. It would give him no end of trouble. Leave me some m

alking. Don't be a fool! we simply can't leave yo

. The eager fierce look on th

days," continued the trader with a smil

ameron resolutely. "

ied Raven with a savage oat

eam of joy in his red-rimmed eyes the In

said Raven, coolly f

as the attack Cameron was quicker. Gripping the Indian's uplifted wrist with his left hand, he brought his right with

ared, knife in hand, "He'll come now. Quiet, you beast! Ah-h-h! Would you?" He seized by the throat and wrist the Indian, wh

ian to his knees and held him as he might a

n. "Now, no more

e at Cameron, Little Thunder ga

haps see that it would be wise for yo

bling with indignant rage, "but

smiled kind

g force and we have still some hours to ride. But," he continued, stepping close to Cameron and looking him in the eyes, "

ely eyes of the speaker, and, noting the smile and the steely gleam in th

ameron found himself riding on a wretched cayuse before the trader whose horse could but dimly b

just a shade violent," he remonstrated, as the horse with a scream rushed open mouthed at a blundering pony and sent him scu

ng easily along the levels, scrambling wildly up the hills, and slithering recklessly down the slopes, the little brute followed without pause the cavalcade in front. How they kept the trail Cameron could not imagine, but, with the in

i-yah! Hai!

-yah! Hai! H

n-spirited broncho, and singing in full baritone t

for the red, w

for the red,

and navy

or the red, wh

ah" of Little Thunder wailing down the storm from before him and the martial notes of the trader behind him demanding cheers for Her Majesty's

mare was dispelled by the sudden h

anced forward through the bunch gaily biting and slashing as he went. "All off! Get them into the 'bunk-house' there, L

rader's voice made his way to a low log building which turne

ound in the dark for a few moments and found and lit a candle stuck in an empty bottle. "There," he cried in a tone of genial hospitality and with a kindly smile, "get a fire on here and make yourself at home. Nighthawk demands my a

and navy

or the red, wh

oment could smile with all the malevolence of a fiend and again could welcome him with