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"Yes," said Cameron."At Fish Creek the half-breeds and Indians had a good chance to wipe out General Middleton's column." And he proceeded to give a graphic account of the rebels' opportunity at that unfortunate affair."But," he concluded, "the half-breeds and Indians have no Chief.""No Chief," agreed Crowfoot with emphasis, his old eyes gleaming in the firelight."No Chief," he repeated."Where Big Bear--Little Pine--Kah-mee-yes-too-waegs and Oo-pee-too-korah-han-ap-ee-wee-yin?""Oh," said Cameron, "here, there, everywhere.""Huh! No big Chief," grunted Crowfoot in disgust."One big Chief make all Indians one."It seemed worth while to Cameron to take a full hour from his precious time to describe fully the operations of the troops and to make clear to the old warrior the steady advances which the various columns were making, the points they had relieved and the ultimate certainty of victory.

"Six thousand men now in the West," he concluded, "besides the Police.And ten thousand more waiting to come."Old Crowfoot was evidently much impressed and was eager to learn more.

"I must go now," said Cameron, rising."Where is Running Stream?"he asked, suddenly facing Crowfoot.

"Huh! Running Stream he go hunt--t'ree day--not come back,"answered Crowfoot quickly.

Cameron sat down again by the fire, poked up the embers till the blaze mounted high.

"Crowfoot," he said solemnly, "this day Onawata was in this camp and spoke with you.Wait!" he said, putting up his hand as the old Chief was about to speak."This evening he rode away with Running Stream, Red Crow, Trotting Wolf.The Sioux for many days has been leading about your young men like dogs on a string.To-day he has put the string round the necks of Red Crow, Running Stream, Trotting Wolf.I did not think he could lead Crowfoot too like a little dog.

"Wait!" he said again as Crowfoot rose to his feet in indignation.

"Listen! The Police will get that Sioux.And the Police will take the Chiefs that he led round like little dogs and send them away.

The Great Mother cannot have men as Chiefs whom she cannot trust.

For many years the Police have protected the Indians.It was Crowfoot himself who once said when the treaty was being made--Crowfoot will remember--'If the Police had not come to the country where would we all be now? Bad men and whisky were killing us so fast that very few indeed of us would have been left to-day.The Police have protected us as the feathers of the bird protect it from the frosts of winter.' This is what Crowfoot said to the Great Mother's Councilor when he made a treaty with the Great Mother."Here Cameron rose to his feet and stood facing the Chief.

"Is Crowfoot a traitor? Does he give his hand and draw it back again? It is not good that, when trouble comes, the Indians should join the enemies of the Police and of the Great Mother across the sea.These enemies will be scattered like dust before the wind.

Does Crowfoot think when the leaves have fallen from the trees this year there will be any enemies left? Bah! This Sioux dog does not know the Great Mother, nor her soldiers, nor her Police.Crowfoot knows.Why does he talk to the enemies of the Great Mother and of his friends the Police? What does Crowfoot say? I go to-night to take Onawata.Already my men are upon his trail.Where does Crowfoot stand? With Onawata and the little Chiefs he leads around or with the Great Mother and the Police? Speak! I am waiting."The old Chief was deeply stirred.For some moments while Cameron was speaking he had been eagerly seeking an opportunity to reply, but Cameron's passionate torrent of words prevented him breaking in without discourtesy.When Cameron ceased, however, the old Chief stretched out his hand and in his own language began:

"Many years ago the Police came to this country.My people then were poor--"At this point the sound of a galloping horse was heard, mingled with the loud cries of its rider.Crowfoot paused and stood intently listening.Cameron could get no meaning from the shouting.From every tent men came running forth and from the houses along the trail on every hand, till before the horse had gained Crowfoot's presence there had gathered about the Chief's fire a considerable crowd of Indians, whose numbers were momentarily augmented by men from the tents and houses up and down the trail.

In calm and dignified silence the old Chief waited the rider's word.He was an Indian runner and he bore an important message.

Dismounting, the runner stood, struggling to recover his breath and to regain sufficient calmness to deliver his message in proper form to the great Chief of the Blackfeet confederacy.While he stood thus struggling with himself Cameron took the opportunity to closely scrutinize his face.