Chapter XVII. To Arms! - Page 2

doing?"

"Where are the troops?"

"Is Prince Albert down?"

"Where's Middleton?"

"What's to be done here?"

There were many voices, all eager, and in them just a touch of anxiety.

"Not a thing do I know," said Superintendent Strong somewhat gravely. "I have been up in the mountains and have heard little. I know that the Commissioner has gone north to Prince Albert."

"Have you heard about Duck Lake?" inquired a voice.

"Yes, I heard we had a reverse there, and I know that General Middleton has arrived at Qu'Appelle and has either set out for the north or is about to set out."

"Heard about Frog Lake?"

"Frog Lake? No. That is up near Fort Pitt. What about it?"

For a moment there was silence, then a deep voice replied:

"A ghastly massacre, women and children and priests."

Then another period of silence.

"Indians?" murmured the Superintendent in a low voice.

"Yes, half-breeds and Indians," replied the deep voice. And again there was silence. The men waited for Superintendent Strong to speak.

The Superintendent sat on his big horse looking at them quietly, then he said sharply:

"Men, there are some five or six thousand Indians in this district." They were all thinking the same thing. "I have twenty- five men with me. Superintendent Cotton at Macleod has less than a hundred."

The men sat their horses in silence looking at him. One could hear their deep breathing and see the quiver of the horses under the gripping knees of their riders. Their minds were working swiftly. Ever since the news of the Frog Lake massacre had spread like a fire across the country these men had been carrying in their minds-- rather, in their hearts--pictures that started them up in their beds at night broad awake and all in a cold sweat.

The Superintendent lowered his voice. The men leaned forward to listen. He had only a single word to say, a short sharp word it was--

"Who will join me?"

It was as if his question had released a spring drawn to its limit. From twenty different throats in twenty different tones, but with a single throbbing impulse, came the response, swift, full-throated, savage, "Me!" "I!" "Here you are!" "You bet!" "Count me!" "Rather!" and in three minutes Superintendent Strong had secured the nucleus of his famous scouts.

"To-morrow at nine at the Barracks!" said this grim and laconic Superintendent, and was about turning away when a man came out from the door of the Royal Hotel, drawn forth by that sudden savage yell.

"Hello, Cameron!" said the Superintendent, as the man moved