It took Cameron some moments to recover his wits, so dumbfounded was he at the sudden change in his condition.
“Well, Sir,” he began, “I hardly know what to say.”
“Sit down, sit down, Mr. Cameron. Take your time,” said the Commissioner. “We are somewhat hurried these days, but you must have had some trying experiences.”
Then Cameron proceeded with his tale. The Commissioner listened with keen attention, now and then arresting him with a question or a comment. When Cameron came to tell of the murder of the Stonies his voice shook with passion.
“We will get that Indian some day,” said the Commissioner, “never fear. What is his name?”
“Little Thunder, Raven called him. And I would like to take a hand in that too, Sir,” said Cameron eagerly.
“You would, eh?” said the Commissioner with a sharp look at him. “Well, we'll see. Little Thunder,” he repeated to himself. “Bring that Record Book!”
The orderly laid a large canvas-covered book before him.
“Little Thunder, eh?” he repeated, turning the leaves of the book. “Oh, yes, I thought so! Blood Indian—formerly Chief—supplanted by Red Crow—got into trouble with whiskey traders. Yes, I remember. He is at his old tricks. This time, however, he has gone too far. We will get him. Go on, Mr. Cameron!”
When Cameron had concluded his story the Commissioner said to the orderly sharply: