s who, amid the hardships of a pioneer civilization, were
laying broad and deep the foundations of Empire." But after the smoke
and noise of the explosion had passed both Opposition and Government
speedily forgot the half-breed and his tempestuous gatherings in the
stores and schoolhouses, at church doors and in open camps, along the
banks of the far away Saskatchewan.

There were a few men, however, that could not forget. An Indian agent
here and there with a sense of responsibility beyond the pickings of his
post, a Hudson Bay factor whose long experience in handling the affairs
of half-breeds and Indians instructed him to read as from a printed page
what to others were meaningless and incoherent happenings, and above all
the officers of the Mounted Police, whose duty it was to preserve the
"pax Britannica" over some three hundred thousand square miles of Her
Majesty's dominions in this far northwest reach of Empire, these carried
night and day an uneasiness in their minds which found vent from time
to time in reports and telegraphic messages to members of Government and
other officials at headquarters, who slept on, however, undisturbed. But
the word was passed along the line of Police posts over the plains and
far out into British Columbia to watch for signs and to be on guard. The
Police paid little heed to the high-sounding resolutions of a few angry
excitable half-breeds, who, daring though they were and thoroughly able
to give a good account of themselves in any trouble that might arise,
were quite insignificant in number; but there was another peril, so
serious, so terrible, that the oldest officer on the force spoke of it
with face growing grave and with lowered voice--the peril of an Indian
uprising.

All this and more made the trim orderly hesitate. A runner with news was
not to be kicked unceremoniously off the porch in these days, but to be
considered.

"You want to see the Superintendent, eh?"

"Oui, for sure--queeck--run ten mile," replied the half-breed with angry
impatience.

"All right," said the orderly, "what's your name?"

"Name? Me, Pinault--Pierre Pinault. Ah, sacr-r-e! Beeg Chief know
me--Pinault." The little man drew himself up.

"All right! Wait!" replied the orderly, and passed into the shack. He
had hardly disappeared when he was back again, obviously shaken out of
his correct military form.

"Go in!" he said sharply. "Get a move on! What are you waiting for?"

The half-breed thre