The Chief called out a name. There was no response.
“Bull Back not here,” he said.
“Then listen, my brother,” said the Inspector earnestly. “This man,” pointing to Mr. Cadwaller, “waits with me at the Fort two days to meet White Horse, Bull Back, and any Indians who know about this man; and what is right will be done. I have spoken. Farewell!” He gave his hand to Chief Red Crow. “My brother knows,” he added, “the Police do not lie.”
So saying, he wheeled his horse and, with Mr. Cadwaller before him, rode off after the others of the party, who had by this time gone some distance up the trail.
For a few moments hesitation held the crowd, then with a loud cry White Horse galloped up and again seized Mr. Cadwaller's bridle. Instantly the Inspector covered him with his gun.
“Hold up your hands quick!” he said.
The Indian dropped the bridle rein. The Inspector handed his gun to Mr. Cadwaller.
“Don't shoot till I speak or I shoot you!” he said sternly. Mr. Cadwaller took the gun and covered the Indian. In a twinkling White Horse found himself with handcuffs on his wrists and his bridle line attached to the horn of the Inspector's saddle.
“Now give me that gun, Mr. Cadwaller, and here take your own—but wait for the word. Forward!”
He had not gone a pace till he was surrounded by a score of angry and determined Indians with levelled rifles. For the first time the Inspector hesitated. Through the line of levelled rifles Chief Red Crow rode up and in a grave but determined voice said: