, then drew rein and waited for his companion. After a
few minutes of eager listening he suddenly sat back in his saddle and
felt for his pipe.

"All right, Jerry," he said softly, "come out."

Grinning somewhat shamefacedly Jerry parted a bunch of spruce boughs and
stood at Cameron's side.

"Good ears," he said, glancing up into Cameron's face.

"No, Jerry," replied Cameron, "I saw the blue-jay."

"Huh," grunted Jerry, "dat fool bird tell everyt'ing."

"Any Indian following?"

Jerry held up two fingers.

"Two Indian run tree mile--find notting--go back."

"Good! Where are our men?"

"Down Coulee Swampy Creek."

"All right, Jerry. Any news at the fort last two or three days?"

"Beeg meetin' St. Laurent. Much half-breed. Some Indian too. Louis Riel
mak beeg spik--beeg noise--blood! blood! blood! Much beeg fool."
Jerry's tone indicated the completeness of his contempt for the whole
proceedings at St. Laurent.

"Something doing, eh, Jerry?"

"Bah!" grunted Jerry contemptuously.

"Well, there's something doing here," continued Cameron. "Trotting
Wolf's young men have left the reserve and Trotting Wolf is very
anxious that we should not know it. I want you to go back, find out what
direction they have taken, how far ahead they are, how many. We camp
to-night at the Big Rock at the entrance to the Sun Dance Canyon. You
remember?"

Jerry nodded.

"There's something doing, Jerry, or I am much mistaken. Got any grub?"

"Grub?" asked Jerry. "Me--here--t'ree day," tapping his rolled blanket
at the back of his saddle. "Odder fellers--grub--Jakes--t'ree men--t'ree
day. Come Beeg Rock to-night--mebbe to-morrow." So saying, Jerry climbed
on to his pony and took the back trail, while Cameron went forward to
meet his men at the Swampy Creek Coulee.

Making a somewhat wide detour to avoid the approaches to the Indian
encampment, Cameron and his two men rode for the Big Rock at the
entrance to the Sun Dance Canyon. They gave themselves no concern about
Trotting Wolf's band of young men. They knew well that what Jerry could
not discover would not be worth finding out. A year's close association
with Jerry had taught Cameron something of the marvelous powers of
observation, of the tenacity and courage possessed by the little
half-breed that made him the keenest scout in the North West Mounted
Police.

At the Big Rock they arrived late in the afternoon and there waited
for Jerry's appearing; but night had fallen an