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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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


"All right," said Cameron. "Let me up. You have beaten me this time."
Raven sprang to his feet.
"Let him up!" he said. "Now, then, Cameron, give me your word you won't
try to escape."
"No, I will not! I'll see you hanged first," said Cameron.
Raven deliberately drew his pistol and said slowly:
"I have saved your life twice already, but the time is past for any more
trifling. Now you've got to take it."
At this Little Thunder spoke a word, pointing toward the camp of the
Stonies. Raven hesitated, then with an oath he strode toward Cameron and
thrusting his pistol in his face said in tones of cold and concentrated
rage:
"Listen to me, you fool! Your life is hanging by a hair trigger that
goes off with a feather touch. I give you one more chance. Move hand or
foot and the bullet in this gun will pass neatly through your eye. So
help me God Almighty!"
He spoke to Little Thunder, still keeping Cameron covered with his gun.
The Indian slipped quietly behind Cameron and swiftly threw a line over
his shoulders and, drawing it tight, bound his arms to his side. Again
and again he repeated this operation till Cameron stood swathed in the
coils of the rope like a mummy, inwardly raging, not so much at his
captor, but at himself and his stupid bungling of his break for liberty.


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