"Let me go, Jerry, you little fool!" said Cameron. "I'll kill you if you don't! I want that Sioux, and, by the eternal G.o.d, I am going to have him!" He shook himself free of the half-breed's grasp and sprang to his feet. "I am going to get him!" he repeated.

"No!" cried Jerry again, flinging himself upon him and winding his arms about him. "Wait! Nodder tam'. Indian mad crazy--keel quick--no talk--now."

Up and down the tunnel Cameron dragged him about as a mastiff might a terrier, striving to free himself from those gripping arms. Even as Jerry spoke, through the dim light the figure of an Indian could be seen pa.s.sing and repa.s.sing the entrance to the cave.

"We get him soon," said Jerry in an imploring whisper. "Come back now--queeck--beeg hole close by."

With a great effort Cameron regained his self-control.

"By Jove, you are right, Jerry," he said quietly. "We certainly can't take him now. But we must not lose him. Now listen to me quick. This pa.s.sage opens on to the canyon about fifty yards farther down. Follow, and keep your eye on the Sioux. I shall watch here. Go!"

Without an instant's hesitation Jerry obeyed, well aware that his master had come to himself and again was in command.

Cameron meantime groped to the mouth of the tunnel by which he had entered and peered out into the dim light. Close to his hand stood an Indian in the cavern. Beyond him there was a confused mingling of forms as if in bewilderment. The Council was evidently broken up for the time.

The Indians were greatly shaken by the vision that had broken in upon them. That it was no form of flesh and blood was very obvious to them, for the Sioux's bullet had pa.s.sed through it and spattered against the wall leaving no trail of blood behind it. There was no holding them together, and almost before he was aware of it Cameron saw the cavern empty of every living soul. Quickly but warily he followed, searching each nook as he went, but the dim light of the dying fire showed him nothing but the black walls and gloomy recesses of the great cave. At the farther entrance he found Jerry awaiting him.

"Where are they gone?" he asked.

"Beeg camp close by," replied Jerry. "Beeg camp--much Indian. Some talk-talk, then go sleep. Chief Onawata he mak' more talk--talk all night--then go sleep. We get him morning."

Cameron thought swiftly.

"I think you are right, Jerry. Now you get back quick for the men and come to me here in the morning. We must not spoil the chance of capturing this old devil. He will have these Indians worked up into rebellion before we know where we are."

So saying, Cameron set forward that he might with his own eyes look upon the camp and might the better plan his further course. Upon two things he was firmly resolved. First, that he should break up this council which held such possibilities of danger to the peace of the country. And secondly, and chiefly, he must lay hold of this Sioux plotter, not only because of the possibilities of mischief that lay in him, but because of the injury he had done him and his.

Forward, then, he went and soon came upon the camp, and after observing the lay of it, noting especially the tent in which the Sioux Chief had disposed himself, he groped back to his cave, in a nook of which--for he was nearly done out with weariness, and because much yet lay before him--he laid himself down and slept soundly till the morning.

CHAPTER XIII

IN THE BIG WIGWAM

Long before the return of the half-breed and his men Cameron was astir and to some purpose. A scouting expedition around the Indian camp rewarded him with a significant and useful discovery. In a bluff some distance away he found the skins and heads of four steers, and by examination of the brands upon the skins discovered two of them to be from his own herd.

"All right, my braves," he muttered. "There will be a reckoning for this some day not so far away. Meantime this will help this day's work."

A night's sleep and an hour's quiet consideration had shown him the folly of a straight frontal attack upon the Indians gathered for conspiracy. They were too deeply stirred for anything like the usual brusque manner of the Police to be effective. A slight indiscretion, indeed, might kindle such a conflagration as would sweep the whole country with the devastating horror of an Indian war. He recalled the very grave manner of Inspector d.i.c.kson and resolved upon an entirely new plan of action. At all costs he must allay suspicion that the Police were at all anxious about the situation in the North. Further, he must break the influence of the Sioux Chief over these Indians. Lastly, he was determined that this arch-plotter should not escape him again.

The sun was just visible over the lowest of the broken foothills when Jerry and the two constables made their appearance, bringing, with them Cameron's horse. After explaining to them fully his plan and emphasizing the gravity of the situation and the importance of a quiet, cool and resolute demeanor, they set off toward the Indian encampment.

"I have no intention of stirring these chaps up," laid Cameron, "but I am determined to arrest old Copperhead, and at the right moment we must act boldly and promptly. He is too dangerous and much too clever to be allowed his freedom among these Indians of ours at this particular time.

Now, then, Jerry and I will ride in looking for cattle and prepared to charge these Indians with cattle-stealing. This will put them on the defensive. Then the arrest will follow. You two will remain within sound of whistle, but failing specific direction let each man act on his own initiative."

Jerry listened with delight. His Chief was himself again. Before the day was over he was to see him in an entirely new role. Nothing in life afforded Jerry such keen delight as a bit of cool daring successfully carried through. Hence with joyous heart he followed Cameron into the Indian camp.

The morning hour is the hour of coolest reason. The fires of emotion and imagination have not yet begun to burn. The reactions from anything like rash action previously committed under the stimulus of a heated imagination are caution and timidity, and upon these reactions Cameron counted when he rode boldly into the Indian camp.

With one swift glance his eye swept the camp and lighted upon the Sioux Chief in the center of a group of younger men, his tall commanding figure and haughty carriage giving him an outstanding distinction over those about him. At his side stood a young Piegan Chief, Eagle Feather by name, whom Cameron knew of old as a restless, talkative Indian, an ambitious aspirant for leadership without the qualities necessary to such a position. Straight to this group Cameron rode.

"Good morning!" he said, saluting the group. "Ah, good morning, Eagle Feather!"

Eagle Feather grunted an indistinct reply.

"Big Hunt, eh? Are you in command of this party, Eagle Feather? No? Who then is?"

The Piegan turned and pointed to a short thick set man standing by another fire, whose large well shaped head and penetrating eye indicated both force and discretion.

"Ah, Running Stream," cried Cameron. "Come over here, Running Stream. I am glad to see you, for I wish to talk to a man of wisdom."

Slowly and with dignified, almost unwilling step Running Stream approached. As he began to move, but not before, Cameron went to meet him.

"I wish to talk with you," said Cameron in a quiet firm tone.

"Huh," grunted Running Stream.

"I have a matter of importance to speak to you about," continued Cameron.

Running Stream's keen glance searched his face somewhat anxiously.

"I find, Running Stream, that your young men are breaking faith with their friends, the Police."

Again the Chief searched Cameron's face with that keen swift glance, but he said not a word, only waited.

"They are breaking the law as well, and I want to tell you they will be punished. Where did they get the meat for these kettles?"

A look of relief gleamed for one brief instant across the Indian's face, not unnoticed, however, by Cameron.

"Why do your young men steal my cattle?"

The Indian evinced indifference.

"Dunno--deer--mebbe--sheep."

"My brother speaks like a child," said Cameron quietly. "Do deer and sheep have steers' heads and hides with brands on? Four heads I find in the bluff. The Commissioner will ask you to explain these hides and heads, and let me tell you, Running Stream, that the thieves will spend some months in jail. They will then have plenty of time to think of their folly and their wickedness."

An ugly glance shot from the Chief's eyes.

"Dunno," he grunted again, then began speaking volubly in the Indian tongue.

"Speak English, Running Stream!" commanded Cameron. "I know you can speak English well enough."

But Running Stream shook his head and continued his speech in Indian, pointing to a bluff near by.

Cameron looked toward Jerry, who interpreted: