recognition. I wish we had a hundred like you in our regiment. I'll take you to the officer of the guard."
Followed by the Cree and his dog-team, the sergeant strode to the neighboring barracks, passing on the way soldiers who stopped to gaze in wonder at the wild recruit and his huge huskies.
Gaining admittance to the office of the officer of the guard, the sergeant saluted and told his story.
"I've got a big Cree Indian outside, sir, who says he's driven his dogs clear from the Rupert River Country to enlist. And from the condition of his face and the looks of his dogs, I believe him. I've driven dogs myself, sir, on the Transcontinental Survey."
"We haven't enlisted any Indians yet, sergeant."
"I know, sir, but I wish you'd have a look at him. He's a big, handsome-built lad, and it seems hard to turn him back after being on the trail a month."
"You say he's come all the way from the far north with his dogs?" asked a gray-haired officer present.
"Yes, sir. They look it, too."
"Have the sergeant bring him in, captain," said the older officer. "I'd like to see the Indian who is patriotic enough to spend a month on the trail in mid-winter for a chance to get himself shot in France."
Entering the room the Cree opened his skin capote, throwing back the hood from a face cracked by wind and frost. A sinewy hand brushed the thick hair from the narrow eyes that searched the faces of the officers for a clew to the verdict that would send him
