"Towards the corral
ahead there!"
This movement nonplussed the Indians and in silence they fell in behind
the party who, going before, finally succeeded in driving the bunch of
horses into the corral.
"Sergeant Crisp, you and Constable Cameron remain here on guard. I shall
go and find the Chief. Here," he continued, addressing a young Indian
brave who had ridden up quite close to the gate of the corral, "lead me
to your Chief, Red Crow!"
The absence alike of all hesitation or fear, and of all bluster in his
tone and bearing, apparently impressed the young brave, for he wheeled
his pony and set off immediately at a gallop, followed by the Inspector
at a more moderate pace.
Quickly the Indians gathered about the corral and the group at its gate.
With every passing minute their numbers increased, and as their numbers
increased so did the violence of their demonstration The three Americans
were placed next the corral, Sergeant Crisp and Cameron being between
them and the excited Indians. Cameron had seen Indians before about the
trading posts. A shy, suspicious, and subdued lot of creatures they had
seemed to him. But these were men of another breed, with their lean,
lithe, muscular figures, their clean, copper skins, their wild fierce
eyes, their haughty bearing. Those others were poor beggars seeking
permission to exist; these were men, proud, fearless, and free.
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