awe, knowing that they and all the men of the Force would carry out their duties to the letter. Now, however, it was different. The natives were mad and half-crazed with bad hootch, and they were ready to cast discretion to the winds. What could two lone men do against an overwhelming number? This was the thought that ran through the minds of several daring young natives. They had easily disposed of the two hootch peddlers, and this made them venturesome and impudent. They wished to show the rest of the Indians that they were not afraid of the policemen.
Acting upon the impulse of the moment, one of their number uttered a few words in the native tongue, sprang forward, and laid hold upon the cringing Jerry. He was followed by several of his companions, and Jerry was being lifted off his feet when the sergeant took a hand. Whipping out his revolver, he sternly ordered the Indians to drop their burden. As they paid no heed, the next instant the revolver spoke, and the right arm of the leader dropped to his side. With a yell of pain and rage the man staggered back, leaving his companions to complete the task. But they had no relish now for the undertaking, for the sergeant was standing silently there with his finger slightly pressing the trigger, and by his side was the constable, with drawn revolver, ready to follow his leader’s example. Quickly the natives deposited the terrified Jerry upon the ground and leaped back among the rest of the Indians who were standing defiantly near.
Seeing that for a time the rebels were quelled, the sergeant thrust back his revolver into its holster, stepped forward, and drew back Jerry to his side. His eyes then roamed deliberately over the silent band before him. He was well aware that he had to use extreme
