There was no hurry in Cameron's manner. He had determined to spend the day if necessary in running down these thieves. At his suggestion Running Stream called together the Chiefs of the various bands of Indians represented. From his supplies Cameron drew forth some more tobacco and, passing it round the circle of Chiefs, calmly waited until all had smoked their pipes out, after which he proceeded to lay the case before them.
“My brothers are not thieves. The Police believe them to be honest men, but unfortunately among them there have crept in some who are not honest. In the bluff yonder are four hides and four heads of steers, two of them from my own herd. Some bad Indians have stolen and killed these steers and they are here in this camp to-day, and I am going to take them with me to the Commissioner. Running Stream is a great Chief and speaks no lies and he tells me that none of his young men have taken these cattle. Will the Chief of the Stonies, the Chief of the Bloods, the Chief of the Piegans say the same for their young men?”
“The Stonies take no cattle,” answered an Indian whom Cameron recognized as the leading representative of that tribe present.
“How many Stonies here?”
The Indian held up six fingers.
“Ha, only six. What about the Bloods and the Piegans?” demanded Cameron. “It is not for me,” he continued, when there was no reply, “to discover the cattle-thieves. It is for the Big Chief of this camp, it is for you, Running Stream, and when you have found the thieves I shall arrest them and bring them to the Commissioner, for I will not return without them. Meantime I go to bring here the skins.”
So saying, Cameron rode leisurely away, leaving Jerry to keep an eye upon the camp. For more than an hour they talked among themselves, but without result. Finally they came to Jerry, who, during his years with the Police, had to a singular degree gained the confidence of the Indians. But Jerry gave them little help. There had been much stealing of cattle by some of the tribes, not by all. The Police had been patient, but they had become weary. They had their suspicions as to the thieves.
Eagle Feather was anxious to know what Indians were suspected.
“Not the Stonies and not the Blackfeet,” replied Jerry quietly. It was a pity, he continued, that innocent men should suffer for the guilty. He knew Running Stream was no thief, but Running Stream must find out the thieves in the band under his control. How would Running Stream like to have the great Chief of the Blackfeet, Crowfoot, know that he could not control the young men under his command and did not know what they were doing?
This suggestion of Jerry had a mighty effect upon the Blackfeet Chief, for old Crowfoot was indeed a great Chief and a mighty power with his band, and to fall into disfavor with him would be a serious matter for any junior Chief in the tribe.