"It is not a pleasant thing to greet a guest with," he said, "but you must know it and I may as well give it to you.And, mind you, this is altogether a new thing with us."For the next half hour as they rode westward toward the big hills, steadily climbing as they went, the story of the disturbance in the north country, of the unrest among the Indians, of the part played in it by the Indian Copperhead, and of the appeal by the Superintendent to Cameron for assistance, furnished the topic for conversation.The girl listened with serious face, but there was no fear in the brown eyes, nor tremor in the quiet voice, as they talked it over.
"Now let us forget it for a while," cried the doctor."The Police have rarely, if ever, failed to get their man.That is their boast.And they will get this chap, too.And as for the row on the Saskatchewan, I don't take much stock in that.Now we're coming to a view in a few minutes, one of the finest I have seen anywhere."For half a mile farther they loped along the trail that led them to the top of a hill that stood a little higher than the others round about.Upon the hilltop they drew rein.
"What do you think of that for a view?" said the doctor.
Before them stretched the wide valley of the Bow for many miles, sweeping up toward the mountains, with rounded hills on either side, and far beyond the hills the majestic masses of the Rockies some fifty miles away, snow-capped, some of them, and here and there upon their faces the great glaciers that looked like patches of snow.Through this wide valley wound the swift flowing Bow, and up from it on either side the hills, rough with rocks and ragged masses of pine, climbed till they seemed to reach the very bases of the mountains beyond.Over all the blue arch of sky spanned the wide valley and seemed to rest upon the great ranges on either side, like the dome of a vast cathedral.
Silent, with lips parted and eyes alight with wonder, Moira sat and gazed upon the glory of that splendid scene.
"What do you think--" began the doctor.
She put out her hand and touched his arm.
"Please don't speak," she breathed, "this is not for words, but for worship."Long she continued to gaze in rapt silence upon the picture spread out before her.It was, indeed, a place for worship.She pointed to a hill some distance in front of them.
"You have been beyond that?" she asked in a hushed voice.
"Yes, I have been all through this country.I know it well.From the top of that hill we get a magnificent sweep toward the south.""Let us go!" she cried.
Down the hillside they scrambled, across a little valley and up the farther side, following the trail that wound along the hill but declined to make the top.As they rounded the shoulder of the little mountain Moira cried:
"It would be a great view from the top there beyond the trees.Can we reach it?""Are you good for a climb?" replied the doctor."We could tie the horses."For answer she flung herself from her pinto and, gathering up her habit, began eagerly to climb.By the time the doctor had tethered the ponies she was half way to the top.Putting forth all his energy he raced after her, and together they parted a screen of brushwood and stepped out on a clear rock that overhung the deep canyon that broadened into a great valley sweeping toward the south.
"Beats Scotland, eh?" cried the doctor, as they stepped out together.
She laid her hand upon his arm and drew him back into the bushes.
"Hush," she whispered.Surprised into silence, he stood gazing at her.Her face was white and her eyes gleaming."An Indian down there," she whispered.
"An Indian? Where? Show me."
"He was looking up at us.Come this way.I think he heard us."She led him by a little detour and on their hands and knees they crept through the brushwood.They reached the open rock and peered down through a screen of bushes into the canyon below.
"There he is," cried Moira.
Across the little stream that flowed at the bottom of the canyon, and not more than a hundred yards away, stood an Indian, tall, straight and rigidly attent, obviously listening and gazing steadily at the point where they had first stood.For many minutes he stood thus rigid while they watched him.Then his attitude relaxed.He sat down upon the rocky ledge that sloped up from the stream toward a great overhanging crag behind him, laid his rifle beside him and, calmly filling his pipe, began to smoke.Intently they followed his every movement.
"I do believe it is our Indian," whispered the doctor.
"Oh, if we could only get him!" replied the girl.
The doctor glanced swiftly at her.Her face was pale but firm set with resolve.Quickly he revolved in his mind the possibilities.
"If I only had a gun," he said to himself, "I'd risk it.""What is he going to do?"
The Indian was breaking off some dead twigs from the standing pines about him.
"He's going to light a fire," replied the doctor, "perhaps camp for the night.""Then," cried the girl in an excited whisper, "we could get him."The doctor smiled at her.The Indian soon had his fire going and, unrolling his blanket pack, he took thence what looked like a lump of meat, cut some strips from it and hung them from pointed sticks over the fire.He proceeded to gather some poles from the dead wood lying about.
"What now is he going to do?" inquired Moira.
"Wait," replied the doctor.
The Indian proceeded to place the poles in order against the rock, keeping his eye on the toasting meat the while and now and again turning it before the fire.Then he began to cut branches of spruce and balsam.
"By the living Jingo!" cried the doctor, greatly excited, "Ideclare he's going to camp."
"To sleep?" said Moira.
"Yes," replied the doctor."He had no sleep last night.""Then," cried the girl, "we can get him."The doctor gazed at her in admiration.
"You are a brick," he said."How can we get him? He'd double me up like a jack-knife.Remember I only played quarter," he added.
