Sly old boy he is!
But he will wait till he sees which way the cat jumps. He is no leader
of lost causes."
At Morleyville they breathed a different atmosphere. They felt
themselves to be among friends. The hand of the missionary here was upon
the helm of government and the spirit of the missionary was the spirit
of the tribe.
"Any trouble?" enquired the Inspector.
"We have a great many visitors these days," said the missionary. "And
some of our young men don't like hunger, and the offer of a full feast
makes sweet music in their ears."
"Any sun-dances?"
"No, no, the sun-dances are all past. Our people are no longer pagans."
"Good man!" was the Inspector's comment as they took up the trail again
toward the mountains. "And with quite a sufficient amount of the wisdom
of the serpent in his guileless heart. We need not watch the Stonies.
Here's a spot at least where religion pays. And a mighty good thing for
us just now," added the inspector. "These Stonies in the old days
were perfect devils for fighting. They are a mountain people and for
generations kept the passes against all comers. But Macdougall has
changed all that."
Leaving the reservation, they came upon the line of the railway.
"There lies my old trail," said Cameron. "And my last camp was only
about two miles west of here.
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