But the word was passed along the line of Police posts over the plains and far out into British Columbia to watch for signs and to be on guard.

The Police paid little heed to the high-sounding resolutions of a few angry excitable half-breeds, who, daring though they were and thoroughly able to give a good account of themselves in any trouble that might arise, were quite insignificant in number; but there was another peril, so serious, so terrible, that the oldest officer on the force spoke of it with face growing grave and with lowered voice--the peril of an Indian uprising.
All this and more made the trim orderly hesitate.

A runner with news was not to be kicked unceremoniously off the porch in these days, but to be considered.
"You want to see the Superintendent, eh ?" "Oui, for sure--queeck--run ten mile," replied the half-breed with angry impatience.
"All right," said the orderly, "what's your name ?" "Name?
Me, Pinault--Pierre Pinault.

Ah, sacr-r-e! Beeg Chief know me--Pinault." The little man drew himself up.
"All right! Wait!" replied the orderly, and passed into the shack.

He had hardly disappeared when he was back again, obviously shaken out of his correct military form.
"Go in!" he said sharply.