Inspector Egerton and Chief Watusk faced each other on horseback.  The other Indians remained at a respectful distance.  Ambrose mightily desired to hear what was being said on either side.  He learned later.

“Watusk!” cried the peppery little inspector.  “What damn foolishness is this?  Rifle pits!  Do you think you’re another Louis Riel?”

Watusk, glowering sullenly, made no answer.

“Have you got Ambrose Doane here?” the officer demanded.

“Ambrose Doane here,” said Watusk.

“I want him,” said Egerton crisply.  “I also want you, Watusk,
Myengeen, Tatateecha, and three others whose names I can’t pronounce. 
I have a clerk belonging to the Company store who will pick them out.

“I’ve got to send you all out for trial before the river closes, so there’s no time to lose.  We will start back to-day.  I will leave half my men here under Sergeant Plaskett to look after your people.  You will instruct your people to bring in all the goods stolen from the Company store.

“Plaskett will have a list of everything that was taken and will credit what is returned.  The balance, together with the amount of damage done the store will be charged in a lump against the tribe, and the sum deducted pro rata from the government annuities next year.  They’re lucky to get off so easy.”

“We get pay, too, for our flour burn up?” muttered Watusk.

“That will be investigated with the rest,” the inspector said.  “Bring in your people at once.  Look sharp!  There’s not an hour to lose!”

Watusk made no move.  The fiery spirit he had swallowed was lending a deceitful warmth to his veins.  He began to feel like a hero.  His eyes narrowed and glittered.  “Suppose I don’ do it?” he muttered.

The inspectors white eyebrows went up.  “Then I will go and take the men I want,” he said coolly.

“You dead before you gone far,” said Watusk.  He swept his arm dramatically around the hills.  “I got five hundred Winchesters point at your red coats!” he cried.  “When I give signal they speak together!”

“That’s a lie,” said the inspector.  “You’ve only a few over two hundred able men in your tribe.”

“Two hundred is plenty,” said Watusk unabashed.  “That is ten bullets for every man of yours.  They are all around you.  You cannot go forward or back.  Ask Company man if Kakisas shoot straight!”

Inspector Egerton’s answer was a hearty laugh.  “Capital!” he cried.

“Laugh!” cried Watusk furiously.  “You no harder than ot’er man.  You got no medicine to stop those bullets you sell us!  No?  If bullets go t’rough your red coats you die lak ot’er men I guess!”

“Certainly!” cried the old soldier with a flash of his blue eyes.  “That’s our business.  But it won’t do you any good.  We’re but the outposts of a mighty power that encircles the world.  If you defy that power you’ll be wiped out like the prairie grass in a fire.”