"The Piegans are Indians, plain Indians, deprived of the privilege of
war by our North West Mounted Police regulations and of the excitement
of the chase by our ever approaching civilization, and the younger
bloods would undoubtedly welcome a 'bit of a divarshun,' as your friend
Mike would say. At present the Indians are simply watching and waiting."

"What for?"

"News. To see which way the cat jumps. Then--Steady, Ginger! What the
deuce! Whoa, I say! Hold hard, Mandy."

"What's the matter with them?"

"There's something in the bushes yonder. Coyote, probably. Listen!"

There came from a thick clump of poplars a low, moaning cry.

"What's that?" cried Mandy. "It sounds like a man."

"Stay where you are. I'll ride in."

In a few moments she heard his voice calling.

"Come along! Hurry up!"

A young Indian lad of about seventeen, ghastly under his copper skin
and faint from loss of blood, lay with his ankle held in a powerful
wolf-trap, a bloody knife at his side. With a cry Mandy was off her
horse and beside him, the instincts of the trained nurse rousing her to