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 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 toward the sad-appearing broncho, "I want you.""All right, sir.I am with you," was the reply as Cameron swung on to his horse."Wake up, Ginger!" he said to his horse, touching him with his heel.Ginger woke up with an indignant snort and forthwith fell into line with the Superintendent's big brown horse.
The Superintendent was silent till the Barracks were gained, then, giving the horses into the care of an orderly, he led Cameron into the office and after they had settled themselves before the fire he began without preliminaries.
