rong toward the Royal Hotel. At
the hitching post of that hostelry a sad-looking broncho was tied, whose
calm, absorbed and detached appearance struck a note of discord with his
environment; for everywhere about him men and horses seemed to be in
a turmoil of excitement. Everywhere men in cow-boy garb were careering
about the streets or grouped in small crowds about the saloon doors.
There were few loud voices, but the words of those who were doing the
speaking came more rapidly than usual.

Such a group was gathered in the rear of the sad-looking broncho before
the door of the Royal Hotel. As the Superintendent loped up upon his
big brown horse the group broke apart and, like birds disturbed at their
feeding, circled about and closed again.

"Hello, here's Superintendent Strong," said a voice. "He'll know."

"Know what?" inquired the Superintendent.

"Why, what's doing?"

"Where are the troops?"

"Is Prince Albert down?"

"Where's Middleton?"

"What's to be done here?"

There were many voices, all eager, and in them just a touch of anxiety.

"Not a thing do I know," said Superintendent Strong somewhat gravely.
"I have been up in the mountains and have heard little. I know that the
Commissioner has gone north to Prince Albert."

"Have you heard about Duck Lake?" inquired a voice.

"Yes, I heard we had a reverse there, and I know that General Middleton
has arrived at Qu'Appelle and has either set out for the north or is
about to set out."

"Heard about Frog Lake?"

"Frog Lake? No. That is up near Fort Pitt. What about it?"

For a moment there was silence, then a deep voice replied:

"A ghastly massacre, women and children and priests."

Then another period of silence.

"Indians?" murmured the Superintendent in a low voice.

"Yes, half-breeds and Indians," replied the deep voice. And again there
was silence. The men waited for Superintendent Strong to speak.

The Superintendent sat on his big horse looking at them quietly, then he
said sharply:

"Men, there are some five or six thousand Indians in this district."
They were all thinking the same thing. "I have twenty-five men with me.
Superintendent Cotton at Macleod has less than a hundred."

The men sat their horses in silence looking at him. One could hear their
deep breathing and see the quiver of the horses under the gripping knees
of their riders. Their minds were working swiftly. Ever since the news
of the Frog Lake massacre had spread li