The Long Patrol: A Tale of the Mounted Police

by H. A. Cody

And not many minutes did she have to wait ere Siwash Bill came creeping along. She saw him peering in through the window, and approach the door. Then when she beheld Madeline standing there, and noticed the two talking together, the fire of rage and jealousy leaped to a white heat. Formerly she had believed that the pale-faced woman was entirely at fault. Now she knew that Bill was much to blame. He had come to the place to see this woman. She had loved the squaw man with all the affection of her passionate nature. She had waited upon him like a slave, and his curses she had received without a murmur. All this she could endure, for he was hers, and her love was deep. But now—She clutched the knife more firmly, and, waiting no longer, sped through the shadows, plunged into the forest, and reached the river. A trail, worn smooth, wound along the bank. This she followed up-stream for the space of fifty yards. Then she paused and listened. Hearing nothing but the rapid beating of her own heart she was about to continue on her way, when a faint sound fell upon her ears. She glanced quickly toward the river, but only the silver sheen of the ripple-less surface met her eyes. She believed she had been mistaken, and was about to proceed when again the sound was heard, much more distinct now. Something was down there along the shore within the shadows of the trees, she felt sure of that. At first she thought it might be only a wild duck, or a muskrat besporting itself in the water. This idea was soon dispelled, however, for presently she was able to detect the soft rhythmical dip of paddles. Moving behind a small jack pine, she crouched upon the ground and waited. Who could it be, she wondered, approaching at such an hour of the night? Was it friend or foe? It could not be any of the Hishus, for they had all gone up-stream. Could it be the Big Lake Indians? She thought of the conversation in the house, and of what Shifty had said about the trouble between the tribes, and of Hishu Sam's return. Were the Big Lakes coming in force to attack the settlement, to murder the inhabitants, seize the supplies in the store, and then sweep on to surprise the Hishus in their camping grounds! Well did she know the remorselessness and tiger-like swiftness of the Big Lakes when once aroused to action.

A sudden impulse seized her to dart forward and give warning of the invaders. She rose partly to her feet, but immediately sank back again. Why should she go? The Hishus were nothing to her, and the white men—ugh! What did she care for them now? Had they not treated her like a dog, and Bill worst of all? Let him go to the white woman; of what avail would she be to him if the Big Lakes came?

Such were the thoughts which beat through her brain as she crouched there with her straining eyes fixed upon the river. The sounds were becoming more distinct, and ere long she was able to discern the dim outline of something moving slowly over the water. Nearer and nearer it approached until the faint shape of a canoe could be discerned, with two forms seated therein. Stealthily and shadowy it glided forward, and passed the place where she was crouched.

Nadu arose, and crept silently along the trail. On and on the canoe moved until it came opposite the store. Here it drew into shore at a little opening which led to the water's edge. Nadu watched the strangers while they made the craft fast to an old root. Then they crept warily through the trees toward the settlement. Her first thought was to follow after, and ascertain the object of their visit. But the sight of the canoe brought to her mind a new idea. With Nadu to think was to act, and when sure that the men were some distance away she moved quickly from her hiding place, unfastened the canoe, gave it a gentle push, and sprang in. Seizing one of the paddles lying in the bottom, with a few vigorous strokes she headed the canoe up-stream, keeping well within the shadows. When she had gone about one hundred yards she ran into shore in a sheltered nook, and made the craft fast to a tree. Having accomplished this she hurried down the trail, and once more took up her position close to the spot where the Indians had landed.

Here she waited for some time ere the sound of returning steps rewarded her patience. Swiftly and softly the two strangers sped down the trail. Reaching the river they looked in surprise at the place where they had left the canoe. Then a whispered conversation ensued. That they were much concerned Nadu could easily tell. Closely she watched them as well as the shadows would permit. One she recognised, and the sight of his figure brought a thrill to her heart. It brought back memories of by-gone years. It was Tonda, the sturdy brave, who had sought her love ere the advent of Siwash Bill, his successful rival. She had given him up for the white man, and what had she gained? The roving life, the fascination of forest, river and lake all had been relinquished. And now she was a slave, confined to a hateful cabin, to wait upon her brutish lord and master.

The sight of Tonda stirred Nadu more than was her wont. Would he care to see her? she wondered. Would he have anything to do with her? Would her people have her back again after years of absence? The old life was drawing, appealing, calling her by numerous mystic charms.

As the Indians continued to converse, Nadu stepped quickly forward and stood by their side. Startled by her sudden appearance, the men raised their rifles. But Nadu lifted her hand, and motioned them not to fear.

"Tonda," she said in a low voice, in the language of the Big Lakes; "Tonda afraid of a squaw? Why does he tremble? Why does he wish to shoot? Is Tonda's heart weak?"

"Who speaks?" replied the latter, bending forward to obtain a better look.