Chief" whom he so greatly desired to
see. Giving no sign of his discovery, he continued his exhortation to
Trotting Wolf, to that worthy's mingled rage and embarrassment. The
suggestion of jail for cattle-thieves the Chief knew well was no empty
threat, for two of his band even at that moment were in prison for this
very crime. This knowledge rendered him uneasy. He had no desire himself
to undergo a like experience, and it irked his tribe and made them
restless and impatient of his control that their Chief could not protect
them from these unhappy consequences of their misdeeds. They knew
that with old Crowfoot, the Chief of the Blackfeet band, such untoward
consequences rarely befell the members of that tribe. Already Trotting
Wolf could distinguish the murmurs of his young men, who were resenting
the charge against White Cloud, as well as the tone and manner in
which it was delivered. Most gladly would he have defied this truculent
rancher to do his worst, but his courage was not equal to the plunge,
and, besides, the circumstances for such a break were not yet favorable.

At this juncture Cameron, facing about, saw within a few feet of him the
Indian whose capture he was enlisted to secure.

"Hello!" he cried, as if suddenly recognizing him. "How is the boy?"

"Good," said the Indian with grave dignity. "He sick here," touching his
head.

"Ah! Fever, I suppose," replied Cameron. "Take me to see him."

The Indian led the way to the teepee that stood slightly apart from the
others.

Inside the teepee upon some skins and blankets lay the boy, whose bright
eyes and flushed cheeks proclaimed fever. An old squaw, bent in form and
wrinkled in face, crouched at the end of the couch, her eyes gleaming
like beads of black glass in her mahogany face.

"How is the foot to-day?" cried Allan. "Pain bad?"

"Huh!" grunted the lad, and remained perfectly motionless but for the
restless glittering eyes that followed every movement of his father.

"You want the doctor here," said Cameron in a serious tone, kneeling
beside the couch. "That boy is in a high fever. And you can't get him
too quick. Better send a boy to the Fort and get the Police doctor. How
did you sleep last night?" he inquired of the lad.

"No sleep," said his father. "Go this way--this way," throwing his arms
about his head. "Talk, talk, talk."

But Cameron was not listening to him. He was hearing a jingle of spurs
and bridle from down the trail and he kne