“She is quite well, thank you.”
“Well, she is an old campaigner,” said the Superintendent with a smile, “and not easily knocked up if I remember her aright. But I ought to say, Cameron, how very deeply I appreciate your very fine—indeed very handsome conduct in volunteering to come to our assistance in this matter. Very handsome indeed I call it. It will have a good effect upon the community. I appreciate the sacrifice. The Commissioner and the whole Force will appreciate it. But,” he added, as if to himself, “before we are through with this business I fear there will be more sacrifice demanded from all of us. I trust none of us will be found wanting.” The Superintendent's voice was unduly solemn, his manner almost somber. Cameron was impressed with this manifestation of feeling so unusual with the Superintendent.
“Any more news, sir?” he inquired.
“Yes, every post brings news of seditious meetings up north along the Saskatchewan and of indifference on the part of the Government. And further, I have the most conclusive evidence that our Indians are being tampered with, and successfully too. There is no reason to doubt that the head chiefs have been approached and that many of the minor chiefs are listening to the proposals of Riel and his half-breeds. But you have some news to give, I understand? Dickson said you would give me particulars.”
Thereupon Cameron briefly related the incidents in connection with the attempted arrest of the Sioux Chief, and closed with a brief account of the burning of his home.
“That is most daring, most serious,” exclaimed the Superintendent. “But you are quite certain that it was the Sioux that was responsible for the outrage?”
“Well,” said Cameron, “he met my wife on a trail five miles away, threatened her, and—”
“Good God, Cameron! Threatened your wife?”
“Yes, nearly flung her off her horse,” replied Cameron, his voice quiet and even, but his eyes glowing like fires in his white face.
“Flung her off her horse? But—he didn't injure her?” replied the Superintendent.