So I put on my heavy socks and coat and, taking my rifle, went cautiously to the door and waited. When the sound came again, I opened the door and ran to the back of the cabin. An animal, the size of a large cat, bounded away in the dark. It went so fast I had no time to shoot. Then, under the roof and hanging from the outside cabin-wall, I found the mangled body of a goose, which we had left there forgotten. Beneath the goose hung a long timber-saw. When the starving cat jumped at the carcass, it clung with teeth and claws and struggled, thus moving the big saw, which made the rhythmical beating. A mounted policeman, an Indian named Many Guns, came to our cabin for shelter from the blizzard. He entered without a word and for a while sat silently by the fire. Then he said abruptly, “I came from the north. I had a bad trip.” We gave him food, and after a smoke he spoke again: “My horse is worn out and my arm is frozen. Yesterday I crossed the Hudson Bay Divide; the snow lies in terrible drifts. My horse broke through the ice in crossing a river. I nearly froze to death. But some Indians helped me. Out there they starve; their food is nearly gone.” That night Many Guns, one of the Indian Mounted Police, told us about his north journey. He said: STORY OF THE MAD INDIAN “In the autumn, I went across the line to hunt Opiowan, a Blood Indian. He killed many people, both Indian and white. He was once a peaceful man who lived with his two wives. The youngest, Pretty Wolverine, was his favorite. They were happy until a former lover of the youngest wife came to their lodge. Then Opiowan was jealous. He warned the man to stay away. “One day the husband told his wives he was going away on a journey. But he did not go far. He hid and watched his tepee. He saw the lover and his youngest wife go together into the woods. The husband followed and caught them. He killed that rival and mutilated him with his knife; but he did not harm the woman. He told her to go home; and then he went on his journey. Soon the body of the lover was found by the North-West Mounted Police; but no one knew the murderer. “Then Opiowan came home and lived with his wives as formerly. But he was afraid and did not want to see any one. “And what was the cause of his fear?” I asked “He was afraid of everything,” said Many Guns. “At night he kept seeing the face of the man he killed and could not sleep. He believed every one was against him; he trembled at every sound—the barking of a dog, a running horse. He was afraid of the police, and whenever he heard the sound of hoofs near his tepee, he wanted to hide. He thought he was going mad; he no longer cared to live. Then he made a vow, that he would kill as many people as he could before he died. He told his wives he would die fighting like a brave warrior.