white traders admired him. But, most of all, he stood fast in the
affection of his own Indian people. They never forgot the fact that, had
he wished, he could have stayed with the white people altogether, that
he was equal to them in English education, but he did not choose to do
so--he was one of their own for all time.

But one dreadful night Corporal Manan of the North-West Mounted Police
rode into barracks at Regina with a serious, worried face. He reported
immediately to his captain. "A bad business, captain," he said, coming
to attention, "a very bad business, sir. I have reports from old
'Scotty' McIntyre's ranch up north that young Wolf-Willow, that we all
know so well, has been caught rustling cattle--cut out two calves, sir,
and--well, he's stolen them, sir, and old Scotty is after him with a
shot-gun."

"Too bad, too bad!" said the captain, with genuine concern. "Young
Wolf-Willow gone wrong! I can hardly believe it. How old is he,
Corporal?"

"About sixteen or seventeen, I should say, sir."

"Too bad!" again said the captain. "Well educated; fine boy, too. What
good has it done him? It seems these Indians _will_ cut up. Education
seems to only make them worse, Corporal. He'll feel arrest less from you
than most of us. You'll have to go. Start early, at daylight, and bring
him in to prison when you return."

"_I_?" fairly shouted Corporal Manan. "_I_ arrest young Wolf-Willow?
No, sir! You'll have to get another policeman."

"You'll do as you receive orders," blurted the captain, then added more
graciously, "Why, Manan, don't you see how much better it is to arrest
him? Scotty is after him with a shotgun, and he'll kill the boy on
sight. Wolf-Willow is safest here. You leave at daylight, and bring
him in, if you have to handcuff him to do it."

Corporal Manan spent a miserable night. Never had a task been so odious
to him. He loved the bright, handsome Cree boy, and his heart was sore
that he had gone wrong, after giving such promise of a fine, useful
manhood. But the white settlers' cattle must be protected, and orders
were orders--a soldier must obey his superior officer. So, at daybreak,
the fastest horse in the service was saddled, and Corporal Manan was
hard on the trail of the young Cree thief.

But Little Wolf-Willow knew nothing of all this. Far away up the
northern plains a terrible bit of news had come to him. At the Hudson's
Bay post he had been told that his old grandfather had been caug