These thoughts must have flashed through my brains very rapidly for the man had not yet entered the barn when I had decided on my course of action.
So, while keeping him covered with my rifle, and with my hand upon the trigger, I shouted:
“Who’s there?”
“It’s only Matthew. Surely you ought to know me by this time.”
Instead of an enemy, there came stumbling along in the darkness, one of our young friends from the camp: a school-teacher, going out to instruct the Indians in the plains of the Saskatchewan.
Groping his way along, he said: “It is awfully close and hot down there in the camp, and so I thought I would rather come and spend the rest of the night with you in the barn.”
Foolish fellow! he little knew how near he had come to losing his life by this direct breach of orders.
As I recognised his voice in answer to my challenge, and realised how near I had come to shooting one of our party, a quick reaction seized me, and dropping the gun, I sank back trembling like a leaf.
After chatting away at a great rate, he at length settled down in the hay, and went to sleep without having the slightest idea of the risk he had run, or of the part I had played in what came so near being a tragedy.
I continued my watch until relieved at sunrise, and then, with my comrade, turned over all the horses safe and sound to those whose duty it was to watch them while they were feeding on the prairies.