Chapter XVII. To Arms!

Superintendent Strong was in a pleasant mood, and the reason was not far to seek. The distracting period of inaction, of doubt, of hesitation was past, and now at last something would be done. His term of service along the line of the Canadian Pacific Railway construction had been far from congenial to him. There had been too much of the work of the ordinary patrol-officer about it. True, he did his duty faithfully and thoroughly, so faithfully, indeed, as to move the great men of the railway company to outspoken praise, a somewhat unusual circumstance. But now he was called back to the work that more properly belonged to an officer of Her Majesty's North West Mounted Police and his soul glowed with the satisfaction of those who, having been found faithful in uncongenial duty, are rewarded with an opportunity to do a bit of work which they particularly delight to do.

With his twenty-five men, whom for the past year he had been polishing to a high state of efficiency in the trying work of police-duty in the railway construction-camp, he arrived in Calgary on the evening of the tenth of April, to find that post throbbing with military ardor and thrilling with rumors of massacres and sieges, of marching columns and contending forces. Small wonder that Superintendent Strong's face took on an appearance of grim pleasure. Straight to the Police headquarters he went, but there was no Superintendent there to welcome him. That gentleman had gone East to meet the troops and was by now under appointment as Chief of Staff to that dashing soldier, Colonel Otter.

But meantime, though the Calgary Police Post was bare of men, there were other men as keen and as daring, if not so thoroughly disciplined for war, thronging the streets of the little town and asking only a leader whom they could follow.

It was late evening, but Calgary was an "all night" town, and every minute was precious, for minutes might mean lives of women and children. So down the street rode Superintendent Strong toward the Royal Hotel. At the hitching post of that hostelry a sad-looking broncho was tied, whose calm, absorbed and detached appearance struck a note of discord with his environment; for everywhere about him men and horses seemed to be in a turmoil of excitement. Everywhere men in cow-boy garb were careering about the streets or grouped in small crowds about the saloon doors. There were few loud voices, but the words of those who were doing the speaking came more rapidly than usual.

Such a group was gathered in the rear of the sad-looking broncho before the door of the Royal Hotel. As the Superintendent loped up upon his big brown horse the group broke apart and, like birds disturbed at their feeding, circled about and closed again.

"Hello, here's Superintendent Strong," said a voice. "He'll know."

"Know what?" inquired the Superintendent.

"Why, what's