"Little Thunder, eh?" he repeated, turning the leaves of the book.
"Oh, yes, I thought so! Blood Indian--formerly Chief--supplanted by Red
Crow--got into trouble with whiskey traders. Yes, I remember. He is at
his old tricks. This time, however, he has gone too far. We will get
him. Go on, Mr. Cameron!"
When Cameron had concluded his story the Commissioner said to the
orderly sharply:
"Send me Inspector Dickson!"
In a few moments Inspector Dickson appeared, a tall, slight man, with a
gentle face and kindly blue eyes.
"Inspector Dickson, how are we for men? Can you spare two or three to
round up a gang of whiskey traders and to run down a murderer? We are on
the track of Raven's bunch, I believe."
"We are very short-handed at present, Sir. This half-breed trouble in
the north is keeping our Indians all very restless. We must keep in
touch with them."
"Yes, yes, I know. By the way, how are the Bloods just now?"
"They are better, Sir, but the Blackfeet are restless and uneasy. There
are a lot of runners from the east among them."
"How is old Crowfoot behaving?"
"Crowfoot himself is apparently all right so far, but of course no man
can tell what Crowfoot is thinking."
"That's right enough," replied the Commissioner.
"By the way, Sir, it was Crowfoot's son that got into that trouble last
night with that Macleod man.
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