At the head of a long slope Little Thunder came to an abrupt halt, rode
to the rear and grunted something to his chief.
"What?" cried Raven in a startled voice. "Stonies! Where?"
Little Thunder pointed.
"Did they see you?" This insult Little Thunder disdained to notice.
"Good!" replied Raven. "Stay here, Cameron, we will take a look at
them."
In a very few minutes he returned, an eager tone in his voice, an eager
gleam in his eyes.
"Stonies!" he exclaimed. "And a big camp. On their way back from their
winter's trapping. Old Macdougall himself in charge, I think. Do you
know him?"
"I have heard of him," said Cameron, and his tone indicated his
reverence for the aged pioneer Methodist missionary who had accomplished
such marvels during his long years of service with his Indian flock and
had gained such a wonderful control over them.
"Yes, he is all right," replied Raven, answering his tone. "He is a
shrewd old boy, though. Looks mighty close after the trading end. Well,
we will perhaps do a little trade ourselves. But we won't disturb the
old man," he continued, as if to himself. "Come and take a look at
them."
Little Thunder had halted at a spot where the trail forked. One part led
to the right down the long slope of the mountain, the other to the left,
gradually climbing toward the top.
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