"
"Ah! Very good, very good! Constable Burke, tie this man up to your
saddle and we'll take a look round. How many might there be in your
gang?" enquired the sergeant. "Tell the truth now. It will be the better
for you."
"One," said Cameron impatiently. "A chap calling himself Raven."
"Raven, eh?" exclaimed Sergeant Crisp with a new interest. "Raven, by
Jove!"
"Yes, and an Indian. Little Thunder he called him."
"Little Thunder! Jove, what a find!" exclaimed the sergeant.
"Yes," continued Cameron eagerly. "Raven is just ahead in the woods
there alone and the Indian is further back with a bunch of ponies down
in the river bottom."
"Oh, indeed! Very interesting! And so Raven is all alone in the scrub
there, waiting doubtless to give himself up," said sergeant Crisp with
fine sarcasm. "Well, we are not yet on to your game, young man, but we
will not just play up to that lead yet a while."
In vain Cameron raged and pleaded and stormed and swore, telling his
story in incoherent snatches, to the intense amusement of Sergeant Crisp
and his companion. At length Cameron desisted, swallowing his rage as
best he could.
"Now then, we shall move on. The pass is not more than an hour away. We
will put this young man in safe keeping and return for Mr. Raven and his
interesting friend.
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