himself. "Sure enough--sure
enough. And yet you could not help it, nor could she." But he was not
thinking of the dead man's record in the books of the Mounted Police.

CHAPTER XIX

THE GREAT CHIEF

On the rampart of hills overlooking the Piegan encampment the sun
was shining pleasantly. The winter, after its final savage kick, had
vanished and summer, crowding hard upon spring, was wooing the bluffs
and hillsides on their southern exposures to don their summer robes of
green. Not yet had the bluffs and hillsides quite yielded to the wooing,
not yet had they donned the bright green apparel of summer, but there
was the promise of summer's color gleaming through the neutral browns
and grays of the poplar bluffs and the sunny hillsides. The crocuses
with reckless abandon had sprung forth at the first warm kiss of the
summer sun and stood bravely, gaily dancing in their purple and gray,
till whole hillsides blushed for them. And the poplars, hesitating with
dainty reserve, shivered in shy anticipation and waited for a surer
call, still wearing their neutral tints, except where they stood
sheltered by the thick spruces from the surly north wind. There they
had boldly cast aside all prudery and were flirting in all their gallant
trappings with the ardent summer.

Seeing none of all this, but dimly conscious of the good of it, Cameron
and his faithful attendant Jerry lay grimly watching through the
poplars. Three days had passed since the raid, and as yet there was no
sign at the Piegan camp of the returning raiders. Not for one hour
had the camp remained unwatched. Just long enough to bury his new-made
friend, the dead outlaw, did Cameron himself quit the post, leaving
Jerry on guard meantime, and now he was back again, with his glasses
searching every corner of the Piegan camp and watching every movement.
There was upon his face a look that filled with joy his watchful
companion, a look that proclaimed his set resolve that when Eagle
Feather and his young men should appear in camp there would speedily be
swift and decisive action. For three days his keen eyes had looked forth
through the delicate green-brown screen of poplar upon the doings of the
Piegans, the Mounted Police meantime ostentatiously beating up the Blood
Reserve with unwonted threats of vengeance for the raiders, the bruit of
which had spread through all the reserves.

"Don't do anything rash," the Superintendent had admonished, as Cameron
appeared