The Superintendent, who seems to have been captured by your
friend's charm of manner, does not appear to be unduly worried and holds
the opinion that we are well rid of Little Thunder. But I venture to
hold a different opinion, namely, that we shall yet hear from that
Indian brave before the winter is over.
"Things are quiet on the reservations--altogether too quiet. The Indians
are so exceptionally well behaved that there is no excuse for arresting
any suspects, so White Horse, Rainy Cloud, those Piegan chaps, and the
rest of them are allowed to wander about at will. The country is full
of Indian and half-breed runners and nightly pow-wows are the vogue
everywhere. Old Crowfoot, I am convinced, is playing a deep game and is
simply waiting the fitting moment to strike.
"How is the little nurse? Present my duty to her and to that other nurse
over whom hangs so deep a mystery."
Cameron folded up his letter and imparted some of the news to the
Sergeant.
"That old Crowfoot is a deep one, sure enough," said Sergeant Ferry. "It
takes our Chief here to bring him to time. Superintendent Strong has the
distinction of being the only man that ever tamed old Crowfoot. Have
you never heard of it? No? Well, of course, we don't talk about these
things. I was there though, and for cold iron nerve I never saw anything
like it.
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