the Inspector.

"Why, yes. Mighty smart, too! But say, you were jest joshing, weren't
you?"

"No, Sir," replied the Inspector. "The Police never break a promise to
white man or Indian."

Then Mr. Cadwaller cut loose for a few moments. He did not object to
waiting any length of time to oblige a friend, but that he should
delay his journey to answer the charges of an Indian, variously and
picturesquely described, was to him an unthinkable proposition.

"Sergeant Crisp, you will see to this," said the Inspector quietly as he
rode away.

Then Mr. Cadwaller began to laugh and continued laughing for several
minutes.

"By the holy poker, Sligh!" at last he exclaimed. "It's a joke. It's a
regular John Bull joke."

"Yes," said Mr. Sligh, while he cut a comfortable chew from his black
plug. "Good joke, too, but not on John. I guess that's how five hundred
police hold down--no, take care of--twenty thousand redskins."

And the latest recruit to Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police
straightened up till he could feel the collar of his tunic catch him on
the back of the neck and was conscious of a little thrill running up his
spine as he remembered that he was a member of that same force.

CHAPTER VII

THE MAKING OF BRAVES

It was to Cameron an extreme satisfaction to ride with some twenty of
his comrades behind White Horse, who, handcuffed and with bridle reins
tied to those of two troopers, and accompanied by Chief Red Crow, Bull
Back, and others of their tribe, made ignominious and crestfallen entry
into the Fort next day. It was hardly less of a satisfaction to see Mr.
Cadwaller exercise himself considerably in making defence against the
charges of Bull Back and his friends. The defence was successful,
and the American citizens departed to Lone Pine, Montana, with their
recovered horses and with a new and higher regard for both the executive
and administrative excellence of Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police
officers and men. Chief Red Crow, too, returned to his band with a
chastened mind, it having been made clear to him that a chief who could
not control his young braves was not the kind of a chief the Great White
Mother desired to have in command of her Indian subjects. White Horse,
also, after three months sojourn in the cooling solitude of the Police
guard room, went back to his people a humbler and a wiser brave.

The horse-stealing, however, went merrily on and the summer of 1884
stands in the