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Connor, Ralph, Pseudonym, 1860-1937

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

Look out for
squalls. If you get shot up see that you select a locality where the
medical attendance and nursing are 'A 1'."
"It would be awfully good to see the old boy," said Cameron as he took
the letter from the Inspector. "He is a decent chap and quite up-to-date
in his profession."
"What about the nurses?" enquired the Inspector gravely.
"Oh, I don't know them. Never knew but one. A good bright little soul
she was. Saw me through a typhoid trip. Little too clever sometimes,"
he added, remembering the day when she had taken her fun out of the
slow-footed, slow-minded farmer's daughter.
"Well," said the Inspector, "we shall possibly come across them in
our round-up. This is rather a big game, a very big game and one worth
playing."
A bigger game it turned out than any of the players knew, bigger in its
immediate sweep and in its nationwide issues.
For three months they swept the plains, haunting the reservations at
unexpected moments. But though they found not a few horses and cattle
whose obliterated brands seemed to warrant confiscation, and though
there were signs for the instructed eye of evil doings in many an Indian
camp, yet there was nothing connected with the larger game upon which
the Inspector of Police could lay his hand.
Among the Bloods there were frequent sun-dances where many braves were
made and much firewater drunk with consequent blood-letting.


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