king
permission to exist; these were men, proud, fearless, and free.

"Jove, what a team one could pick out of the bunch!" said Cameron to
himself, as his eye fell upon the clean bare limbs and observed their
graceful motions. But to the Americans they were a hateful and fearsome
sight. Indians with them were never anything but a menace to be held in
check, or a nuisance to be got rid of.

Louder and louder grew the yells and wilder the gesticulations as the
savages worked themselves up into a fury. Suddenly, through the yelling,
careering, gesticulating crowd of Indians a young brave came tearing at
full gallop and, thrusting his pony close up to the Sergeant's, stuck
his face into the officer's and uttered a terrific war whoop. Not a line
of the Sergeant's face nor a muscle of his body moved except that the
near spur slightly touched his horse's flank and the fingers tightened
almost imperceptibly upon the bridle rein. Like a flash of light the
Sergeant's horse wheeled and with a fierce squeal let fly two wicked
heels hard upon the pony's ribs. In sheer terror and surprise the
little beast bolted, throwing his rider over his neck and finally to the
ground. Immediately a shout of jeering laughter rose from the crowd, who
greatly enjoyed their comrade's discomfiture. Except that the Sergeant's
face wore a look of pleased surprise, he simply maintained his attitude
of calm indifference. No other Indian, however, appeared ready to repeat
the performance of the young brave.

At length the Inspector appeared, followed by the Chief, Red Crow.

"Tell your people to go away!" said the Inspector as they reached the
corral. "They are making too much noise."

Red Crow addressed his braves at some length.

"Open the corral," ordered the Inspector, "and get those horses out on
the trail."

For a few moments there was silence. Then, as the Indians perceived the
purpose of the police, on every side there rose wild yells of protest
and from every side a rush was made toward the corral. But Sergeant
Crisp kept his horse on the move in a series of kicks and plunges that
had the effect of keeping clear a wide circle about the corral gate.

"Touch your horse with the spur and hold him up tight," he said quietly
to Cameron.

Cameron did so and at once his horse became seemingly as unmanageable as
the Sergeant's, plunging, biting, kicking. The Indian ponies could not
be induced to approach. The uproar, however, only increased. Gun