"Odder fellers--grub--Jakes--t'ree men--t'ree day.

Come Beeg Rock to-night--mebbe to-morrow." So saying, Jerry climbed on to his pony and took the back trail, while Cameron went forward to meet his men at the Swampy Creek Coulee.
Making a somewhat wide detour to avoid the approaches to the Indian encampment, Cameron and his two men rode for the Big Rock at the entrance to the Sun Dance Canyon.

They gave themselves no concern about Trotting Wolf's band of young men.

They knew well that what Jerry could not discover would not be worth finding out.

A year's close association with Jerry had taught Cameron something of the marvelous powers of observation, of the tenacity and courage possessed by the little half-breed that made him the keenest scout in the North West Mounted Police.
At the Big Rock they arrived late in the afternoon and there waited for Jerry's appearing; but night had fallen and had broken into morning before the scout came into camp with a single word of report: "Notting." "No Piegans ?" exclaimed Cameron.
"No--not dis side Blood Reserve." "Eat something, Jerry, then we will talk," said Cameron.
Jerry had already broken his fast, but was ready for more.