y of one
specimen."

"I know that, but--"

"This is a Sarcee camp, I fancy. They are a cunning lot and not the most
reliable of the Indians. Let me see--three--four teepees. Ought to be
fifteen or twenty in that camp. Only squaws about. The braves apparently
are in town painting things up a bit."

A quarter of a mile past the Indian encampment the trail made a sharp
turn into what appeared to be the beginning of the main street of the
town.

"By Jove!" cried Cameron. "Here they come. Sit tight, Mandy." He pointed
with his whip down the trail to what seemed to be a rolling cloud of
dust, vocal with wild whoops and animated with plunging figures of men
and ponies.

"Steady, there, boys! Get on!" cried Cameron to his plunging, jibing
bronchos, who were evidently unwilling to face that rolling cloud of
dust with its mass of shrieking men and galloping ponies thundering down
upon them. Swift and fierce upon their flanks fell the hissing lash.
"Stand up to them, you beggars!" he shouted to his bronchos, which
seemed intent upon turning tail and joining the approaching cavalcade.
"Hie, there! Hello! Look out!" he yelled, standing up in his wagon,
waving his whip and holding his bronchos steadily on the trail. The
next moment the dust cloud enveloped them and the thundering cavalcade,
parting, surged by on either side. Cameron was wild with rage.

"Infernal cheeky brutes!" he cried. "For two shillings I'd go back and
break some of their necks. Ride me down, would they?" he continued,
grinding his teeth in fury.

He pulled up his bronchos with half a mind to turn them about and pursue
the flying Indians. His experience and training with the Mounted Police
made it difficult for him to accept with equal mind what he called the
infernal cheek of a bunch of Indians. At the entreaties of his wife,
however, he hesitated in carrying his purpose into effect.

"Let them go," said Mandy. "They didn't hurt us, after all."

"Didn't? No thanks to them. They might have killed you. Well, I shall
see about this later." He gave his excited bronchos their head and
sailed into town, drawing up in magnificent style at the Royal Hotel.

An attendant in cowboy garb came lounging up.

"Hello, Billy!" cried Cameron. "Still blooming?"

"Sure! And rosebuds ain't in it with you, Colonel." Billy was from the
land of colonels. "You've got a whole garden with you this trip, eh?"

"My wife, Billy," replied Cameron, presenting her.

Billy pul