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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

"Corporal Cameron of the North West Mounted Police; a tale of the Macleod trail"

Then White
Cloud, throwing back his head and looking Cameron full in the face,
said--"Good man. Good man. Me no go."
"Then I go alone," cried Cameron, springing off into the darkness.
As he turned his foot caught the pile of wood brought for the fire.
He tripped and stumbled almost to the ground. Before he could recover
himself Little Thunder, swift as a wildcat, leaped upon his back with
his ever-ready knife in his upraised hand, but before he could strike,
Cameron had turned himself and throwing the Indian off had struggled to
his feet.
"Hold there!" cried Raven with a terrible oath, flinging himself upon
the struggling pair.
A moment or two the Stonies hesitated, then they too seized Cameron and
between them all they bore him fighting to the ground.
"Keep back! Keep back!" cried Raven in a terrible voice to Little
Thunder, who, knife in hand, was dancing round, seeking an opportunity
to strike. "Will you lie still, or shall I knock your head in?" said
Raven to Cameron through his clenched teeth, with one hand on his throat
and the other poising a revolver over his head. Cameron gave up the
struggle.
"Speak and quick!" cried Raven, his face working with passion, his voice
thick and husky, his breath coming in quick gasps from the fury that
possessed him.


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