"If I only had a gun," he said to himself, "I'd risk it."

"What is he going to do?"

The Indian was breaking off some dead twigs from the standing pines about him.

"He's going to light a fire," replied the doctor, "perhaps camp for the night."

"Then," cried the girl in an excited whisper, "we could get him."

The doctor smiled at her. The Indian soon had his fire going and, unrolling his blanket pack, he took thence what looked like a lump of meat, cut some strips from it and hung them from pointed sticks over the fire. He proceeded to gather some poles from the dead wood lying about.

"What now is he going to do?" inquired Moira.

"Wait," replied the doctor.

The Indian proceeded to place the poles in order against the rock, keeping his eye on the toasting meat the while and now and again turning it before the fire. Then he began to cut branches of spruce and balsam.

"By the living Jingo!" cried the doctor, greatly excited, "I declare he's going to camp."

"To sleep?" said Moira.

"Yes," replied the doctor. "He had no sleep last night."

"Then," cried the girl, "we can get him."

The doctor gazed at her in admiration.

"You are a brick," he said. "How can we get him? He'd double me up like a jack-knife. Remember I only played quarter," he added.

"No, no," she cried quickly, "you stay here to watch him. Let me go back for the Police."

"I say," cried the doctor, "you are a wonder. There's something in that." He thought rapidly, then said, "No, it won't do. I can't allow you to risk it."

"Risk? Risk what?"

A year ago the doctor would not have hesitated a moment to allow her to go, but now he thought of the roving bands of Indians and the possibility of the girl falling into their hands.

"No, Miss Cameron, it will not do."

"But think," she cried, "we might get him and save Allan all the trouble and perhaps his life. You must not stop me. You cannot stop me. I am going. You wait and watch. Don't move. I can find my way."

He seized her by the arm.

"Wait," he said, "let me think."

"What danger can there be?" she pleaded. "It is broad daylight. The road is good. I cannot possibly lose my way. I am used to riding alone among the hills at home."

"Ah, yes, at home," said the doctor gloomily.

"But there is no danger," she persisted. "I am not afraid. Besides, you cannot keep me." She stood up among the bushes looking down at him with a face so fiercely resolved that he was constrained to say, "By Jove! I don't believe I could. But I can go with you."

"You would not do that," she cried, stamping her foot, "if I forbade you. It is your duty to stay here and watch that Indian. It is mine to go and get the Police. Good-by."

He rose to follow her.

"No," she said, "I forbid you to come. You are not doing right. You are to stay. We will save my brother."

She glided through the bushes from his sight and was gone.

"Am I a fool or what?" said the doctor to himself. "She is taking a chance, but after all it is worth while."

It was now the middle of the afternoon and it would take Moira an hour and a half over that rocky winding trail to make the ten miles that lay before her. Ten minutes more would see the Police started on their return. The doctor settled himself down to his three hours' wait, keeping his eye fixed upon the Indian. The latter was now busy with his meal, which he ate ravenously.

"The beggar has me tied up tight," muttered the doctor ruefully. "My grub is on my saddle, and I guess I dare not smoke till he lights up himself."

A hand touched his arm. Instantly he was on his feet. It was Moira.

"Great Caesar, you scared me! Thought it was the whole Blackfoot tribe."

"You will be the better for something to eat," she said simply, handing him the lunch basket. "Good-by."

"Hold up!" he cried. But she was gone.

"Say, she's a regular--" He paused and thought for a moment. "She's an angel, that's what--and a mighty sight better than most of them. She's a--" He turned back to his watch, leaving his thought unspoken. In the presence of the greater pa.s.sions words are woefully inadequate.

The Indian was still eating as ravenously as ever.

"He's filling up, I guess. He ought to be full soon at that rate. Wish he'd get his pipe agoing."

In due time the Indian finished eating, rolled up the fragments carefully in a rag, and then proceeded to construct with the poles and brush which he had cut, a penthouse against the rock. At one end his little shelter thus constructed ran into a spruce tree whose thick branches reached right to the ground. When he had completed this shelter to his satisfaction he sat down again on the rock beside his smoldering fire and pulled out his pipe.

"Thanks be!" said the doctor to himself fervently. "Go on, old boy, hit her up."

A pipe and then another the Indian smoked, then, taking his gun, blanket and pack, he crawled into his brush wigwam out of sight.

"There, you old beggar!" said the doctor with a sigh of relief. "You are safe for an hour or two, thank goodness. You had no sleep last night and you've got to make up for it now. Sleep tight, old boy. We'll give you a call." The doctor hugged himself with supreme satisfaction and continued to smoke with his eye fixed upon the hole into which the Indian had disappeared.

Through the long hours he sat and smoked while he formulated the plan of attack which he proposed to develop when his reinforcements should arrive.

"We will work up behind him from away down the valley, a couple of us will cover him from the front and the others go right in."

He continued with great care to make and revise his plans, and while in the midst of his final revision a movement in the bushes behind him startled him to his feet. The bushes parted and the face of Moira appeared with that of her brother over her shoulder.

"Is he still there?" she whispered eagerly.

"Asleep, snug as a bug. Never moved," said the doctor exultantly, and proceeded to explain his plan of attack. "How many have you?" he asked Cameron.

"Crisp and a constable."