"A la claire fontaine Je m'allait promener, J'ai trouve l'eau si belle Que je me suis baigne."

Her song ended with her work, and as she passed the strangers, with her two flowing pails of yellow milk, Riel whispered softly, as he touched her sweet little hand:

"Ah, ma petite amie!"

The same flash came in her eyes, the same proud blood mantled through the dusk of her cheek, but she restrained herself. He was a guest under her father's roof, and she would suffer the offence to pass. The persistent gallant was more crest-fallen by this last silent rebuke, than by the first with its angry words. The first, in his vanity, he had deemed an outburst of petulance, instead of an expression of personal dislike, especially as the girl had so suddenly calmed herself and extended hospitalities. He gnashed his teeth that a half-breed girl, in an obscure village, should resent his advances; he for whom, if his own understanding was to be trusted, so many bright eyes were languishing. At the evening meal he received courteous, kindly attention from Marie; but this was all. He related with much eloquence all that he had seen in the big world in the East during his school days, and took good care that his hosts should know how important a person he was in the colony of Red River. To his mortification he frequently observed in the midst of one of his most self-glorifying speeches that the girl's eyes were abstracted, as if her imagination were wandering. He was certain she was not interested in him, or in his exploits.

"Can she have a lover?" he asked himself, a keen arrow of jealousy entering at his heart, and vibrating through all his veins. "No, this cannot be. She said in her musings on the prairie that she had nobody who would sing a sad song if she were to go to the South. Stop! She may love, and not find her passion requited. I shall stay about here some days, upon some pretext, and I shall see what is in the wind."

The next morning, when breakfast was ended, he perceived Marie rush to the window, and then hastily, and with a dainty coyness withdraw her head from the pane. Simultaneously he heard a sprightly tune whistled, as if by some glad, young heart that knew no care. Looking now, he saw a tall, well-formed young whiteman, a gun on his back, and a dog at his heels, walking along the little meadow-path toward the cottage.

"This is the lover," he muttered; "curses upon him." From that moment he hated with all the bitterness of his nature the man now striding carelessly up toward the cottage door.

"Bon jour, mademoiselle et messieurs" the newcomer said in cheery tones, as he entered, making a low bow.

"Bon jour, Monsieur Scott," was the reply. Louis Riel, intently watching, saw the girl's colour come and go as she spoke to the young man. This was the same Scott, the Thomas Scott, the tidings of whose fate, at the hands of the rebel and murderer, Louis Riel, in later years, sent the blood boiling through the veins of Western Canada. The young man stayed only for a few moments, and Riel observed that everybody in the house treated him as if in some way he had been the benefactor of all. When he arose to go, young Jean, who knew of every widgeon in the mere beyond the cottonwood grove, and where the last flock of quail had been seen to alight, followed him out the door, and very secretly communicated his knowledge. Marie had seen a large flock of turkeys upon the prairie a few moments walk south of the poplar grove, and perhaps they had not yet gone away.

"When did you see them, ma chere mademoiselle Marie? enquired Scott. You know turkeys do not settle down like immigrants in one spot, and wait till we inhabitants of the plains come out and shoot them. Was it last week, or only the day before yesterday that you saw them?" There was a very merry twinkle in his eye as he went on with this banter. Marie affected to pout, but she answered.

"This morning, while the dew was shining upon the grass, and you, I doubt not, were sleeping soundly, I was abroad on the plains for the cows. It was then I saw them. I am glad, however, that you have pointed out the difference between turkeys and immigrants. I did not know it before." He handed her a tiger lily which he had plucked on the way, saying,

"There, for your valuable information, I give you that. Next time I come, if you are able to tell me where I can find several flocks, I shall bring you some coppers." With a world of mischief in his eyes, he disappeared, and Mary, in spite of herself, could not conceal from everybody in the house a quick little sigh at his departure.

"It seems to me this Monsieur Scott is a great favourite with your folk, Monsieur?" Said M. Riel, when the young man had left the cottage. "Now I came with my friend also for sport, but no pretty eyes had seen any flocks to reserve for me." And he gave a somewhat sneering glance at poor Marie, who was pretending to be engaged in examining the petals of the tiger-lilly, although she was all the while thinking of the mischievous, manly, sunny-hearted lad who had given it to her. M. Riel's words and the sneer were lost, so far as she was concerned. Her ears were where her heart was, out on the plain beyond the cottonwood, where she could see the tall, straight, lithe figure of young Scott, with his dog at his heels, its head now bobbing up from the grass, and now its tail.

"Oui, Monsieur," returned Marie's father, "Monsieur Scott is a very great favourite with our family. We are under an obligation to him that it will be difficult for us ever to repay."

"Whence comes this benefactor," queried M. Riel, with an ugly sneer, "and how has he placed you under such obligation?" Then, reflecting that he was showing a bitterness respecting the young man which he could just then neither explain nor justify, he said:

"Mais, pardonnez moi. Think me not rude for asking these questions. When pretty eyes are employed to see, and pretty lips to tell of, game for one sportsman in preference to another, the neglected one may be excused for seeking to know in what way fortune has been kind with his rival."

"Shall I tell the whole story, Marie?" enquired the pere, "or will you do so?"

"O I know that you will not leave anything out that can show, the bravery of Mr. Scott, so I shall leave you to tell it," replied the girl.

"Well, last spring, Marie was spending some days with her aunt, a few miles up Red River. It was the flood time, and as you remember the river was swollen to a point higher than it had ever reached within the memory of any body in the settlement. Marie is venturesome, and since a child has shown a keen delight in going upon boats, or paddling a canoe; so one day, during the visit which I have mentioned, she got into a birch that swung in a little pond formed behind her uncle's premises by the over-flowing of the stream's channel. Untying the canoe, she seized the blade and began to paddle about in the lazy water. Presently she reached the eddies, which, since a child, she has always called the 'rings of the water-witches,' wherever she learned that term. Her cousin, Violette, was standing in the doorway, as she saw Marie move off, and she cried out to her to beware of the eddies; but my daughter, wayward and reckless, as it is her habit to be in such matters, merely replied with a laugh; and then, as the canoe began to turn round and round in the gurgling circles, she cried out, 'I am in the rings of the water-witches. C'est bon! bon! C'est magnifique! O I wish you were with me, Violette, ma chere. It is so delightful to go round and round.' A little way beyond, not more than twice the canoe's length, rushed by, roaring, the full tide of the river. 'Beware, Marie, beware, for the love of heaven, of the river. If you get a little further out, and these eddies will drag you out, you will be in the mad current, and no arm can paddle the canoe to land out of the flood. Then, dear, there is the fall below, and the fans of the mill. Come back, won't you!' But my daughter heeded not the words. She only laughed, and began dipping water up from the eddies with the paddle-blade, as if it were a spoon that she held in her hand. 'I am dipping water from the witches rings,' she cried. 'How the drops sparkle! Every one is a glittering jewel of priceless value. I wish you were here with me, Violette!' Suddenly, and in an altered tone, she cried, 'Mon Dieu! My paddle is gone.' The paddle had no sooner glided out into the rushing, turbulent waters than the canoe followed it, and Marie saw herself drifting on to her doom. Half a mile below was the fall, and at the side of the fall, went ever and ever around with tremendous violence, the rending fans of the water-mill. Marie knew full well that any drift boat, or log, or raft, carried down the river at freshet-flow, was always swept into the toils of the inexorable wheels. Yet, if she were reckless and without heed a few minutes before, I am told that now she was calm. As she is present, I must refrain from too much eulogy of her behaviour. Violette gave the alarm that Marie was adrift in the river without a paddle, and in a few seconds, every body living near had turned out, and were running down the shore. Several brought paddles, but it took hard running to keep up with the canoe, for the flood was racing at a speed of eight miles an hour. When they did get up in line each one flung out a paddle. But one fell too far out, and another not far enough. About fifteen men were about the banks in violent excitement, and every one of them saw nothing but doom for Marie. As the canoe neared a point about two hundred yards above the fall, a young white man—all the rest were bois-brules—rushed out upon the bank, with a paddle in his hand, and, without a word, leaped into the mad waters. With a few strokes, he was at the side of the canoe, and put the paddle into Marie's hand. 'Here,' he said, 'Keep away from the mill; that is your only danger, and steer sheer over the fall, getting as close as possible to the left bank.' The height of the fall, as you are aware, was not more than fifteen or eighteen feet, and there was plenty of water below, and not very much danger from rocks. 'Go you on shore now, and I will meet my doom, or achieve my safety,' Marie said; but the young man answered, 'Nay, I will go over the fall too: I can then be of some service to you.' So he swam along by the canoe's side directing my daughter, and shaping the course of the prow on the very brink of the fall. Then all shot over together. The canoe and Marie, and the young man were buried far under the terrible mass of water, but they soon came to the surface again, when the heroic stranger saved my daughter, and through the fury of the mad churning waters, landed her safe and unhurt upon the bank. The young man was Thomas Scott, whom you saw here this morning. Is it any wonder, think you, that when Marie sees wild turkeys upon the prairie, she keeps the knowledge of it to herself till she gets the ear of her deliverer? Think you, now, that it is strange he should be looked upon by us as a benefactor?"

"A very brave act, indeed, on the part of this young man," replied the swarthy M. Riel. "He has excellent judgment, I perceive, or he would not so readily have calculated that no harm could come to any one who could swim well by being carried over the falls."

Marie's eyes flashed indignantly at this cold blooded discounting of the generous, uncalculating bravery of her young preserver.

"I doubt, Monsieur, she said, whether if you had been on the bank where Monsieur Scott jumped in, you would have looked upon the going over of the fall as an exploit so free of danger as you describe it now. As a matter of fact, there were many half-breeds there, many of whom, no doubt, were as brave as yourself, but I should have perished in the fans of the mill if I had to depend upon the succour of any one of them."

"Mademoiselle," he retorted with a fierce light in his eye, "I am not a half-breed."

"O, pardonnez mois, I thought from your features and the straightness of your coal-black hair, that you were." Riel's blood was nigh unto boiling in his veins, but he had craft enough to preserve a tolerably unruffled exterior.

"And in return for this great bravery, ma petite demoiselle has, I suppose, given her heart to her deliverer?"

"I think Monsieur is impertinent; and I shall ask my father to forbid him to continue to address me in such a manner."

"A thousand pardons; I did not mean to pain, but only to chaff, your brave daughter. I think that Monsieur Scott is most fortunate in having a friend, a beautiful friend, so loyal to him, and so jealous of his fair fame. But to pass to other matters. Have you had visits from any emissaries of the Canadian government during the autumn?"

"Yes, Monsieur Mair came here one day in company with Monsieur Scott. They were both quail shooting. They stayed only for a little, and I was quite favourably impressed with the agreeableness and politeness of M. Mair's manners."

"O, indeed! Monsieur Mair was here and with Mr. Scott! I am glad that you conceive an opinion so favourable of Monsieur Mair, but I regret that I am unable to share in the regard. I think I had better open your eyes somewhat to the character of this agreeable gentleman. Since coming to Red River, his chief occupation has been writing correspondence respecting our colony, and the civilization and morals of our people. I have been preserving carefully some of the communications for future use, and if you will permit me I shall read an extract from a late contribution of his to a newspaper printed in Ontario. You will, I think, be able to gather from it something of his opinion respecting the Metis women. Indeed, I am surprised that Mademoiselle's great friend and preserver," he looked sneeringly at Marie, "should have for so close a companion a person who entertains these views about our people."

"I do not know that Monsieur Scott is so close a companion of Monsieur Mair," put in Marie. "I think Monsieur is now, as he has been doing all along, assuming quite too much."

"I sincerely trust that I am doing so, but I shall read the extract," and he took from his pocket-book a newspaper slip. Smoothing the creases out of the same, he read, with the most malignant glee, the following paragraph, dwelling with emphasis upon every disparaging epithet:—

"Here I am in Red River settlement. What a paradise of a place it is. The mud, which is a beautiful dusky red, like the complexion of the Red River belles, does not rise much beyond my knees; and resembling the brown-skinned beauties in more than complexion, it affectionately clings to me, and do what I will, I cannot get rid of it."

"That is a very flattering description of our Red River young women, I am sure, and from the pen of your great friend's friend, too. Now is it not? But there is more than this," and he proceeded to read further.

"The other evening they had a pow-wow in the settlement, which they called a dance. I was invited, and being considered such a great man here, of course—I do not speak it boastingly—the hearts of all the tallow-complexioned girls throbbed at a great rate when I entered."

"Tallow complexioned girls!" reiterated the reader. "Very complimentary, indeed, on the part of the friend of your greatest friend."

"Monsieur will either please finish reading his slip, since he wishes to do so, although, for my part, I am not at all interested in it, or put it by. In any case, I must ask that he will cease addressing me in this insolent tone."

"Then, since Mademoiselle wills it so, I shall finish the very truthful and complimentary paragraph without further comment."

"Such a bear garden as that dance was; yet I somewhat enjoyed the languishing glances of the bright-eyed damsels. But, ugh! the savages never can be made to wash themselves. When the dance had continued for three or four hours, the dancers began to pair off like pigeons and in each nook you could observe a half-breed and his girl, sometimes the demoiselle nursing her beau with arms about his neck, or vice versa. ... The women are all slatterns, and as a rule they exhibit about as much morality as is found among the female elk of the prairies. A white man here who is at all successful in winning female attention, needs but to whistle, or to raise his finger, to have half a dozen of the dusky beauties running after him. While I write this letter I see two maidens passing under my window. I no longer take pride or fun in the matter. To me they have become a nuisance."



CHAPTER VI.

"Now, Monsieur," said M. Riel, folding his newspaper slip and putting it back again into his greasy pocket-book, "you well perceive that this Monsieur Mair is not exactly the sort of gentleman who ought to be the recipient of your hospitalities. I do not say that Monsieur Scott, who went over the little waterfall with your daughter, holds the same opinion respecting us, as as does his friend Monsieur Mair; I only know that upon matters of this kind bosom friends are very apt to be of the same mind.

"Who, let me ask again, has informed the gallant and generous Monsieur that these two young white men are bosom friends? Monsieur Mair was at this house once, and Monsieur Scott was with him. I understood that they had only met the day before; and it is only a week ago since Monsieur told me that he had not since seen his new friend. Monsieur has been sarcastic in his reference to Monsieur Scott, I think without much excuse."

"Is not this, Monsieur Scott, an employe of the Vampire Snow, who is making surveys through our territories in our despite, and in the face of law and justice?" Marie's father replied:

"Il est, Monsieur."

"So I had been informed. Now Monsieur, I have some serious business to talk to you about. As you are no doubt aware, the authorities at the Canadian Capital are at this moment discussing the project of buying the North-West Territories from the Hudson Bay Company, converting Red River into a Dominion Colony of the Confederation, and setting to rule it a governor and officials chosen from among Canadians, who hold opinions respecting us as a people, quite similar to those entertained by Monsieur Mair, and those who have the honour of being his friend." This with a malignant glance toward Marie, who merely retorted with a scornful flash in her fine, proud eyes.

"Well, Monsieur, I have decided that Red River shall not pass over to the hands of alien officials. I shall call upon every true colonist to rise and aid me in asserting our rights as free men, and as the proprietors of the soil we have tilled for so many years. As for your friend Mr. Scott, Mademoiselle"—turning with a hideous look toward Marie—"I am very sorry to interfere with his good fortune, but before the set of to-morrow's sun, I intend packing Mr. Snow and his followers out of our territories. Nay more, I shall keep a very sharp look out for this young man who went with you over the chute petite. Indeed it may be interesting for you to hear that I know something of his antecedents already. He delights to call himself a 'loyalist,' and has declared that the people of Red River have no right to protest against the transfer to the Canadian Government."

"I do not know what Monsieur Scott's views are upon this question," replied the girl. "Whatever they are I presume that he is as much entitled to hold them as you are to maintain yours."

"I am not so certain on this point as ma belle Mademoiselle seems to be," he retorted with a sneer like the hiss of a cobra. "This is our country, and any man who opposes its welfare is a traitor and a common enemy. But now, Monsieur,"—turning to Marie's father—"you must permit me to say that I view with strong disapproval the intimacy of any of our people with aliens and enemies. Therefore I find it necessary to forbid for the future any further visit of this young man Scott to your house. Nay, more, I shall not permit any communication between your family and him; as I have good reason to believe that he is a paid spy of Mr. Snow and the Government of Canada."

"Monsieur," quietly retorted Marie, with a curl of infinite contempt upon her soft, red-ripe, moist lips, "You are a coward, and a snake."

"Hush, Marie! Monsieur must not take heed of the ready tongue of my daughter," the poor terrified and over-credulous father put in with much trepidation.

"Mon pere need not apologize to Monsieur Riel for sa fille," the girl said, giving her father a glance of mild reproach. "I think that I am not unaware of the reason why Monsieur Riel's patriotism and vigilance have taken their present generous, honourable and manly form. And as I have now to go out and attend to my work, I would desire to say before leaving, that Monsieur has addressed his last words to me. I do not wish to see him ever again at our house. Should he insist on coming—and I know he has high spirit and honourable feeling enough to even so insist and force himself where he is not welcome—it shall be to my greatest repugnance. I have been to you, mon pere, a faithful and loving child. I do not think that I have ever before this day made any important request of you. But I make one now: it is that you request this Monsieur Riel to never enter our doors again. Pray, mon pere," she said going to him and looking into his face with the intensest pleading in her great eyes, "do not refuse me this request."

"Monsieur has heard my daughter's request? I cannot deny it to her."

The only reply from M. Riel was a sneer that sounded like an envenomed hiss.

"About the matter of visits, Monsieur, I shall consult my own taste and convenience." Marie went out from the house as regal in her bearing, and as beautiful as any princess that has ever trod the court of Caliph. Riel followed the retreating form of the lovely girl with eyes that showed the rage and desire of a wild beast. When she was out of sight he calmed himself, and assuming a changed mood, turned to her father.

"Monsieur, there is no reason why you and I should quarrel; is there?"

"No Monsieur; no reason."

"On the contrary, it would be well, if in these troublous times, when duties so momentous await every loyal heart in the colony, that we should be friends. Is this not so?"

"Oui, Monsieur."

"Then we can, if you will, be friends. I am prepared to forgive the indignity put upon, me by your daughter. I will not hesitate to take your hand, and forgive you for the insult which you have just offered me. And now hear what I have to say. Coming yonder through the prairie, yesterday, I heard your daughter singing. The very sound of her voice thrilled me as I had never been delighted in all my life before. But when I saw her, sitting alone, a d heard her holding converse with a solitary bird which had lost its mate, I was ravished by her beauty, and made a vow that I would win her heart. I presently perceived that the impression I made upon her was not favourable. I took her hand in mine, but she snatched it away as if an aspek's tongue had touched it. A moment later, in the madness of my passion for her, I suddenly strained her in my arms. After this I knew that she detested me. This knowledge I could have borne, trusting to time, and to the aid of fortune, to make her look less indifferently upon me. Great achievement lies almost ready at my hand; and my end attained, she would have seen in me one who stood above all others in Red River in brilliancy of attainment and strength of character. And while in this way I was endeavouring to cool the fire that was burning me, I perceived that her heart was given to another; to one who, so far as I can judge, does not return her affection."

"And who, pray Monsieur, may this rival be?"

"The young man who rescued your daughter—Thomas Scott."

"Mon Dieu, I hope that it is not as you say, for I do not want my daughter, much as I am indebted to this young man, to give to him her affection. If he be, as you say, a spy of Government and an enemy of our people, a marriage with him would be out of the question."

"Bon, bon! Monsieur." And M. Riel, in the exuberance of his loyalty, having succeeded in the vital point, grasped the hand of Marie's father and shook and wrung it several times.

"Now, Monsieur, we agree on the main point. I shall name the other conditions upon which we may be friends. I have sworn to overcome your daughter's repugnance to me. Will you assist me in the direction of accomplishing this object?"

"Oui, Monsieur, by every fair means."

"C'est bien. By every fair means. Only fair means will I ask you to employ. I shall now tell you what I desire you to do. You must keep Mademoiselle under your strictest surveillance. She must not see Monsieur Scott, or communicate with him. When his name is introduced into conversation, you must show that the subject is displeasing to you. You will be asked why it is so, and you shall answer that you have indisputable proof, and such proof you may take my word to be, that the young man is not in sympathy with the cause of the Metis, and that he is actually a secret and paid agent of the Canadian Government. That your course may seem more reasonable, and appear to be the outcome of your own inclination, you will on such occasions be able to say that you are under obligation to him for his readiness and gallantry—always use these words—when your daughter was in the brimming river; but that your gratitude can be only a, memory, since he has leagued himself against a cause so near to the heart, and so supremely in the interest, of every man and woman and child in the colony of Red River. You must at the very first convenient moment, and without letting Marie perceive that I have prompted you to this step, inform her that she must banish from her mind at once any tender fancies regarding the young man which she may possess. Point out to her that in any case it would be unwise in her to cherish feelings which very evidently are not reciprocated. Lastly, you will have to teach her cautiously, and without the semblance of coercion, but constantly, to think of me. You must show her how great is the promise which lies before me; how I am the leader of the people and ruler-predestined of all the land. Nor must you forget to show her that if I have seemed rude in her presence, and given way to anger or bitterness, it was because of my all-consuming love for her, and that henceforth the great aim of my life, through all the turbulent deeds that this tumultous time may have in store for me, shall be to win her approbation, to hear at the close of the din, and when achievement shall have crowned me master, a 'Brava, Monsieur' from her sweet lips.'

"Most faithfully, Monsieur, I swear to you," answered the old man, taking the Rebel's hand in his, "will your wishes be carried out. More than this, I can almost promise you that I shall succeed." And then he went to fetch a bottle, in which he had some choice old rye. While he was away, M. Riel, who was alone—for all were absent in the fields, and his comrade had been abroad since the grey dawn—began to muse in this wise:

"So he believes that he can triumph—that Marie will yield!" Then he ground his teeth like a wild beast and swore a terrible oath. "If she yield—ah! but it is a feast for me to contemplate my revenge. Raise her to the dignity of wife to share my social honours and triumph. No; elle sera ma maitresse; and I shall cast her off among the worthless and degraded ones of her sex." Then Marie's father entered with the liquor, and pledged his fealty to Monsieur with many "salutes" and "bonne santes" After M. Riel had taken sufficient liquor to make him thoroughly daring, he said with a sinister tone:

"Although it may not be your honour ever to call me your son-in-law, your duty in persuading your daughter remains the same. We have formed a compact of friendship and mutual understanding; yet I must say to you that your own personal safety depends upon your compliance; depends" he repeated, raising his voice till it sounded like the bellowing of an infuriated bull, "upon your success. Your intimacy with this man Scott, together with the visit paid to your house by the man Mair, places you entirely at my mercy. Before many days I shall call again to see how far you have succeeded. I shall expect a report of some progress. When I call after that I shall be satisfied with nothing short of triumph. I now go, leaving my warning to ring in your ears till you see me again." And with an air of insolent mastery, and a gross light in his eye, he seized his fowling-piece, and strode out the door, followed by his dog.

"Mon Dieu!" gasped the terrified half-breed, "I thought that we had become friends, but he goes from my door like an enemy, filling my ears with threats of vengeance. May the Virgin protect my Marie and me from his power."

"Has that terrible man gone, mon pere?" enquired Marie, who now entered with sorrow and agitation in her face.

"Yes; but you must not speak against him. O, how I fear him; that is to say, ma petite fille, he is a very powerful man, a great man, and will one day rule all the people, and be in eminence like unto one of the Canadian Governors: therefore, it is that it was unfortunate the young man Scott should ever have been at our house."

"Ah, mon pere! wherefore? Do you regret having extended a trifling hospitality, not better than you would accord to a wandering savage, to a brave, honest, honourable young man, who, at the risk, of his own life, saved the life of your child? O, surely you have not received into your ears the poison of this man's cunning and malice;" and she threw her arms about her father's neck and sobbed, and sobbed there as if her heart would burst. Old Jean was moved to deep grief at the affliction of his daughter, yet he could offer her no word of comfort.

"Monsieur has poured no poison into my ear, ma chere. He is a powerful man and a great patriot. The people all love him; and, although he spoke rudely and bitterly to you, we must forgive him. This we shall not find difficult to do, when we remember that his display of ill-feeling was because of his all-consuming love for you."

"All-consuming love!" and her eyes blazed with indignation. "All-consuming, all debasing, low passion; not love. No, no; love is a sacred thing, whose divine name is polluted when uttered by such lips as his."

"Be reasonable, ma Marie; don't suffer hastily formed dislikes to sway your judgment and good sense. There is not a girl on all the prairies who would not be proud to be wooed by Monsieur Riel. Wherefore should you not be? If you have any other affection in your heart banish it. It may be that you have cherished a tender regard for the young man Scott, who is, let me see what he is, who is ready and gallant—no, that is not it—who is quick, and brave, yes, I think that is it——."

"Mon Dieu; cease, mon pere. Has this tempter gone so far as to actually put in your mouth the words to be employed in winning me to his hateful, loathsome arms. Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu;" and she pressed her little brown fingers over her throbbing temples. Has my own father leagued himself against my happiness and, and—my honour!" And, with a loud, heart-rending cry, she fell to the floor, pale and motionless.

"Is she dead! Mon Dieu! Ma chere fille, speak to me." And then raising her death-pale head a little, he poured some of the spirits into her mouth. This restored her, but there was an almost vacant look in her eye for many minutes, which wrung his heart. "Sit up my pet and we will talk together. I will no longer play the inhuman monster by disguises and deceit."

"Then you will be frank?" she said, her eyes brightening.

"I swear it. Now this man has conceived a violent passion for you, and I am to press his suit, to alienate your affections from Monsieur Scott, if you entertain such feelings, and to win you over to Monsieur Riel. He is to visit us within a brief period, and when he comes he will expect me to be able to report marked progress. He will make a second visit, and he has sworn that triumph alone will satisfy him then. If things fall not out in this wise, I am promised his vengeance. He declares that our intimacy with young Scott, and the visit paid us by the homme mauvais Mair, who is an unscrupulous agent of the Canadian Government, would justify extreme measures against us; and if I mistake not the man, his intention is to arm hundreds of our people, proclaim a martial law, and establish himself as head and judge. I am certain that he would not hesitate to take the most lawless steps. Indeed, I should not regard as safe either my own life or your honour. Such then being the facts, what are we to do?"

"God is good; let us first of all put our trust in Him. Then let us examine the means which He has given us to meet the evil. Now, my plan is that I shall in the first instance affect to yield with grief to such proposals as you at first make to me. Let there be a surrender of Monsieur Scott—" Here she blushed so deeply that all her sweet-rounded cheek, and her neck, and her delicious little shell-like ears, became a crimson, deep as her bodice—"and a consent to entertain as favourably as I can the suit of M. Riel. Meanwhile we can see what is the next best step. I do not think that we have much to dread by leaving Red River. We can go to your brother who lives across the border, and I am certain that he will be delighted to harbour us till the tempest blows over. I believe that this rising will rage for a brief season only, when it must yield to the arm of the Canadian authorities. M. Riel is a fanatic, and counts not the perilousness of his undertaking. He will succeed at the first, I doubt not. You will hear of slaughtered whites, and others who have incurred his private vengeance. He will lord it over all like a tyrant, till he sees the bayonets from Canada, when he will take good care to get out of the way." Her father saw that her views were sound, and consented to take her advice; but who was to acquaint his brother with their needs, and to learn if he could afford a harbourage?

"Paul can go. He can take the pony and ride the distance in twelve hours." So it was agreed, and Marie busied herself with the linen of her brother, and sewed missing buttons upon his clothes. In the evening, when all were seated at supper, a young half-breed who had long been an intimate friend at the house of Marie's father, and who cast many a languishing eye upon the piquant Violette, came in. There was much concern in his face, and it was some time before he knew how to begin to break the news which he possessed.

"Monsieur Riel was at my father's house to-day, and he talked long there. He is not your friend," looking at Jean. "He declares that you are in league with the enemies of our colony, and has asked my father to keep a strict watch on the doings of every member of your family. I know that he talked in the same strain at every house he visited; and I think there is no threshold in our settlement that he hasn't crossed. About twenty-five young men have declared their willingness to follow him in any exploit. They met upon a field this afternoon and drilled for a couple of hours. One of them told me,"—the speaker now turned his gaze half toward Marie—"not an hour ago that their first business would be to settle affairs with Messieurs Mair and Scott, whom they declare are enemies of Red River, and spies of the Canadian government. I should not wonder if these two men were secured to-night; and if this be so, and I am any judge of human malevolence, Riel will have them shot." The colour had gone out of Marie's cheek, and there was a terrified gleam in her eye.

"Can nothing be done," she asked, "to apprise them of the miscreant's designs?"

"I regret that I can do nothing; you know how gladly I would were it in my power. Every man between twenty-one and sixty years in our settlement, has been called out to attend a meeting to be held during the evening in the school-house, to discuss the situation. One Lepine, a bosom friend of Monsieur Riel, is to tell us what we are to do. I, therefore, will have to be present."

"I shall go," said young Paul. "I can reach Willow grove long before the moon is up, and give warning to Monsieur Scott. But Monsieur Mair has to take care of himself. I would very gladly assist in his capture, or for that matter be well pleased to be one of a firing party to dispatch his insolent, insulting life." The young lad's cheeks were burning with indignation. "I think Monsieur Riel is an impostor, although the cause which he has espoused is a holy one. But this Mair, after receiving our hospitalities turns and holds us up to the ridicule, contempt and pity of the world. Under obligation must we ever remain to Monsieur Scott, but beyond this, he is a true gentleman, and incapable of the remotest sympathy with the mean unmanliness of this Monsieur Mair."

Paul, was a tall, handsome lad, with large, spirited, brown eyes. He was in his eighteenth year, but had the manly address of twenty-one. His sister's gratitude gleamed in her eyes. When he was ready to go out to saddle his pony, she put her arms about him and kissed him.

"Que Dieu benisse, mon bon frere. Bon voyage!" and she watched him, I doubt not praying, though her ruby lips moved not, for him, and for her lover, till the flitting figure of himself and his fleet-limbed pony was lost in the dusk that had already gathered over the plain... That evening when Paul returned he came not alone. Another steed and rider were there, and beyond, in the shadow of a grove of cottonwood stood a party of a dozen horsemen. Marie heard the double tramp, and with some terror drew to the window to see who was approaching. But her apprehensions suddenly vanished, and a flush came over her face.



CHAPTER VII.

"Mon pere, it is Paul, and there is with him Monsieur Scott; why, I wonder, has he come?" While the question yet remained unanswered, Paul entered the room accompanied by young Scott.

"Monsieur will explain the cause of his visit," Paul said.

"Monsieur and mademoiselle," young Scott began, inclining his head first to the father and then to the daughter, "as you may expect, only great urgency brought me here under these circumstances. A half-breed to whom I did a kindness since coming to the territories, is one of Monsieur Riel's agents, and is in the confidence of that dangerous person. He tells me that this very night, probably before the rise of the moon, a party is to surround your house, and make you and your daughter captives. The charge against you is, that you are both in league with Canadian spies, and enemies of Red River. One of the said spies is myself! It appears that you are to be taken to the common jail; and mademoiselle Marie is to be lodged in the house of a Metis hag, who is a depraved instrument of Riel's will. Therefore, I have brought hither an escort sufficient to accomplish your safe retreat to some refuge beyond the American frontier. Paul tells me that you had proposed going to your brother's. I do not consider this a safe plan. Your malignant persecutor will very speedily learn from your neighbours all information respecting the existence of relatives, and where they reside. You would be no safer from the vengeance of this monster in adjacent, thinly settled American territory, than you would be in Red River. Will you therefore come with me to my uncle's in a town not far beyond the line?—only too happy will he be to serve you in your need." The proposal was very gladly accepted. Tears stood in old Jean's eyes; and I doubt not that they came there when he began to reflect that, but for Marie, he should now have been acting in league with his miscreant persecutor against this noble, generous-hearted young fellow.

Within an hour, most of the little valuables in the dear old homestead, which neither Jean nor Marie ever again expected to see, were made up into small packs, each one to be carried by one of the escorts. With a deep sigh Marie looked at the home of her happy youth, drowsing in the deep shadow of the oaks, and then mounted her horse. All that night she rode by her lover's side, and stole many a glance of admiring pride at his handsome, manly figure. When they were a couple of hours out, a dusky yellow appeared in the south-east, and then the bright, greenish-yellow rim of the Autumn moon appeared, and began to flood the illimitable prairie with a thick, wizard light.

"So this miscreant has been hunting you, Marie?" said the young man, for both had unconsciously dropped in rear. "I did not like his glances this morning, and had resolved to keep my eyes upon him. I suppose, ma petite, if I had the right to keep you from the fans of water-mills, that I also hold the right of endeavouring to preserve you from a man whose arms would be worse than the rending wheel?" She said nothing, but there was gratitude enough in her eye to reward for the most daring risk that man ever run.

"You do not love this sooty persecutor, do you, ma chere?"—and then, seeing that such a question pained and confused her, he said, "Hush now, ma petite fille; I shall not tease you any more." The confusion passed away, and her little olive face brightened, as does the moon when the cloud drifts off its disc.

"I am very glad. O, if you only knew how I shudder at the sound of his name!"

"There now, let us forget about him, I can protect you from him; can I not?" and he reined his horse closer to hers, and leaned tenderly over towards the girl. She said nothing, for she was very much confused. But the confusion was less embarrassment than a bewildered feeling of delight. But for the dull thud, thud of the hoofs upon the sod, her escort might plainly enough have heard the riotous beating of the little maiden's heart.

"And now, about that flower which I gave you this morning. What did you do with it?"

"Ah, Monsieur, where were your eyes? I have worn it in my hair all day. It is there now; it was there when you came to our cottage this evening."

"Ah, I see. I am concerned with your head,—not with your heart. Is that it, ma petite bright eye? You know our white girls wear the flowers we give them under their throats, or upon their bosom. This they do as a sign that the donor occupies a place in their heart." He did not perceive in the dusky moonlight, that he was covering her with confusion. Upon no point was this little maiden so sensitive, as when it was revealed to her that a particular habit or act of hers differed from that of the civilized white girl. Her dear little heart was almost bursting with shame, and this thought was running through her mind.

"Oh! what a savage I must seem in his eyes." Her own unspoken words seemed to burn through her whole body. "But how could I know where to wear my rose? I have read in English books that gentle ladies wear them there." And these lines of Tennyson came running through her head.

"She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair."

And they gave her some relief, for she thought, after all, that he might be only joking When the blood had gone back from her forehead, she turned towards her lover, who had been looking at her since speaking with somewhat of a tender expression in his mischievous eyes.

"Do white girls never wear roses in their hair? I thought they did. Can it be wrong for me to wear mine in the same place?"

"Ah, my little barbarian, you do not understand me. If an old bachelor, whose head shone like the moon there in the sky, were to give to some blithe young belle a rose or a lily, she would, most likely, twist it in her hair; but if some other hand had presented the flower, one whose eye was brighter, whose step was quicker, whose laugh was cheerier, whose years were fewer; in short, ma chere Marie, if some one for whom she cared just a little bit more than for any other man that walked over the face of creation, had presented it to her, she would not put it in her hair. No, my little unsophisticated one, she would feel about with her unerring fingers, for the spot nearest her heart, and there she would fasten the gift. Now, ma Marie, suppose you had possessed all this information this morning when I gave you the flower, where would you have pinned it?"

"Nobody has ever done so much for me as has Monsieur. He leaped into the flood, risking his life to save mine. I would be an ungrateful girl, then, if I did not think more of him than of any other man; therefore, I would have pinned your flower on the spot nearest my heart," Then, deftly, and before he could determine what her supple arms and nimble little brown fingers were about, she had disengaged the lily from her hair, and pinned it upon her bosom. "There now, Monsieur, is it in the right place?" and she looked at him with a glance exhibiting the most curious commingling of innocence and coquetry.

"I cannot answer. I do not think that you understand me yet. If the act of saving you from drowning were to determine the place you should wear the rose, then the head, as you first chose, was the proper spot, Do you know what the word love means?"

"O, I could guess, perhaps, if I don't know. I have heard a good deal about it, and Violette, who is desperately fond of a handsome young Frenchman, has explained it so fully to me, that I think I know. Yes, Monsieur, I do know."

"Well, you little rogue, it takes one a long time to find out whether you do or not. In fact I am not yet quite satisfied on the point. However, let me suppose that you do know what love is; the all-consuming sort, the kind that sighs like the very furnace. Well, that part of the statement is clear. Then, supposing that a flower is worn over the heart only to express love, of the sort I mentioned, for the donor, where would you, with full knowledge of this fact, have pinned the flower that I plucked for you this morning?"

"Since I do not understand the meaning of the word love with very great clearness,—I think Monsieur has expressed the doubt that I do understand it—I would not have known where to pin the flower. I would not have worn it at all. I would, Monsieur, have set it in a goblet, and taking my stitching, would have gazed upon it all the day, and prayed my guardian angel to give me some hint as to where I ought to put it on."

"You little savage, you have eluded me again. Do you remember me telling you that some day, if you found out for me a couple of good flocks of turkeys, I would bring you some coppers?"

"I do."

"Well, if you discovered a hundred flocks now, I would not give you one." And then he leaned towards her again as if his lips yearned for hers; but his love of mischief was too strong for every other desire. For her part, she took him exactly as she should have done. She never pouted;—If she had done so, I fancy that there would have been soon an end of the wild, boyish, sunny raillery.

"Hallo! Little one, we are away, away in the rear. Set your pony going, for we must keep up with our escort." Away they went over the level plain, through flowers of every name and dye, the fresh, exquisite, autumn breeze bearing the scent of the myriad petals upon their faces. After a sharp gallop over about three miles of plain, they overtook the main body of the escort.

They now reached the border, and the pavements of the little town of Pembina rang with the hoofs of their horses. Away still to the south, they rode through the glorious autumn night, under the calm, bountiful moon.

"Now, Monsieur Riel, I think we are some distance from your foul talons," Scott said, as turning in his saddle, he saw the steeples of Pembina, gloom-wrapped, almost sunk in the horizon. "I fancy I can hear the curses of his willing tools in the air, after they swooped down upon your cottage, Marie, and found the inmates flown."

"What is your uncle's cottage like, Monsieur Scott?"

"It is not unlike your own. It is in a grove of pines, and a happy brook goes chattering by it all the summer. Will you come fishing in it with me, ma petite?"

"Oui, avec le plus grand plaisir, Monsieur," and she looked so happy, there was so much sun in her eyes, so many divine little dimples in her cheek, in contemplation of all the promised happiness, that it would not require much keenness to discover the secret of the dear little maiden.

"Of course, you shall fish with a pin-hook. I am not going to see you catch yourself with one of the barbed hooks, like those which I shall use."

"O, Monsieur Scott! Why will you always treat me as a baby!" and there was the most delicate, yet an utterly indescribable sort of reproach in her voice and attitude, as she spoke these words.

"Then it is not a baby by any means," and he looked with undisguised admiration upon the maiden, with all the mystic grace and perfect development of her young womanhood. "It is a woman, a perfect little woman, a fairer a sweeter, my own mignonette, than any girl ever seen in this part of the plains since first appeared here human footprint."

"O, Monsieur is now gone to the other extreme. He is talking dangerously; for he will make me vain."

"Does the ceaseless wooing of the sweet wild rose by soft winds, make that blossom vain? or is the moon spoilt because all the summer night ten thousand streams running under it sing to it unnumbered praises? As easy, ma Marie, to make vain the rose or the moon as to turn your head by telling your perfections."

"Monsieur covers me with confusion!" and the little sweet told the truth. But it was a confusion very exquisite to her. It sang like entrancing music through her veins; and gave her a delightful delirium about the temples, flow fair all the glorious great round of the night, and the broad earth lit by the moon, seemed to her now, with the music of his words coursing through her being. Everything was transfigured by a holy beauty, for Love had sanctified it, and clothed it with his own mystic, wonderful garments. It was with poor Marie, then, as it has some time or other been with us all: when every bird that sang, every leaf that whispered, had in its tone a cadence caught from the one loved voice. I have seen the steeple strain, and rock, and heard the bells peal out in all their clangourous melody, and I have fancied that this delirious ecstasy of sound that bathed the earth and went up to heaven was the voice of one slim girl with dimples and sea-green eyes.

The mischievous young Scotchman had grown more serious than Marie had ever seen him before.

"I hope, my child, that you will be happy here; the customs of the people differ from yours, but your nature is receptive to everything good and elevated, so that I am certain you will soon grow to cherish our civilization."

I must say here for the benefit of the drivelling, cantankerous critic, with a squint in his eye, who never looks for anything good in a piece of writing, but is always on the search for a flaw, that I send passages from Tennyson floating through my Marie's brain with good justification. She had received a very fair education at a convent in Red River. She could speak and write both French and English with tolerable accuracy; and she could with her supple, tawny little fingers, produce a nice sketch of a prairie tree-clump, upon a sheet of cartridge paper, or a piece of birch rind.

Young Scott was all the while growing more serious, and even becoming pathetic, which is a sign of something very delicious, and not uncommon, when you are travelling under a bewitching moon, in company with a more bewitching maiden.

"I wish I could be with you during the early part of your stay here, for I could do much toward reconciling you to your new life."

"And are you not going to stay with us?" Her voice sounded somewhat like a restrained cry of pain.

"No Marie, my child, I have to return to the territories."

"But that wicked man will work his vengeance upon you."

"It is just to meet that wicked man upon his own ground that I go back. It is to thwart him, to cast in my strength on the side of peace, in the interest of those fertile plains, that I return. You do not suppose that this licentious fanatic can ultimately prevail against the will of the people of Canada, against the military force of the Empire of Great Britain. The sovereign of our mighty realm tolerates in no land any dispute of her authority, and this mad uprising will be crushed as I might stamp put the feeble splutter of a bed-room taper. There are without the intervention of outside force at all, enough of brave and loyal whitemen to overthrow this scurvy miscreant; and my immediate task is to do the little that lies in my power to incite them to their duty. When my work is done, when the plains are cleared of the mutinous, blind, unreasoning hordes whom this cunning, vainglorious upstart has called away from their peaceful homesteads, I will return, my darling little girl, with the tidings; and I shall bring you back to the spot where you grew up pure and artless as the lily that brightens the pond upon which we have so often paddled our birch together. What the days after that may have in store for us I know not."

"Ah, I shall be very dreary in your absence, Monsieur Scott."

"And I, my dear girl, shall be not less dreary without you. I believe you have regarded yourself as a mere plaything in my eyes. Why, ma chere, all of my heart you have wholly and irrevocably. One of your dear hands is more precious, more sacred to me, than any other girl whom mine eyes have ever seen. Do you remember the definition of love that I tried to give you? Well, I gave it from my own experience. With such a love, my prairie flower, do I love you. It is fit now, that we are so soon to part, that I should tell you this: and you will, know that every blow I strike, every noble deed I do shall be for the approbation of the dear heart distant from me in American territory. I have said that the hours of absence will be dreary; but there will be beyond the the darkest of them one hope which shall blaze like a star through the night, and that is that I shall soon be able to call my Marie my sweet, sweet bride. Now, my beloved, if that wished for time had come, and I were to say, 'Will you be mine, Marie,' what would you answer?"

"I did not think that it would be necessary for Monsieur to ask me that question," she answered shyly, her beautiful eyes cast down; "I thought he knew."

"My own little hunted pet!" He checked his horse, and seized the bridle of Marie's pony, till the two animals stood close together. Then he kissed the girl upon her sweet virgin lips, murmuring low,

"My love."

The next morning he was away, and Marie sat sad by the strange brook that ho had told her about. Old Jean was very contented, but now that he had nought to do, ha babbled all day about the wars; and thanked the Virgin that himself and his child had escaped the clutches of the Rebel leader. Paul speedily obtained employment harvesting on a large farm near by, and after a little old Jean began to be extremely useful to his kind host. But tying sheaves was not the occupation, at this tumultuous time, that young Paul's heart would have chosen. For how he longed to be in the fray! to stand, side by side, with his young comrade, Luc, fighting for the honour and independence of Riviere Rouge. It was only, after the most tedious argument, that he could be prevailed upon to stay; and it was Thomas Scott, who had so overcome him.

"You know the designs that this monster harbours," that young man had said to Paul. "You are foolish enough to count now on his patriotism, and to imagine that he would welcome you to his ranks. He would act far differently: he would probably spare you, provided that you lent yourself to his evil designs. If you refused to do this, he would very probably shoot you as a traitor to your country."

As for Riel, it may seem that his conduct in deciding in one hour, to use Marie's father as a tool, and, during the next, projecting a plan which defeated the very end which he had in view, was absolutely illogical, and unreasonable; and that it is the narrator whose skill is at fault. But I have been at pains to give this occurrence at length, for the very purpose of revealing the unstaid, unreasoning character of Riel, and how far passion and impulse will carry him away from sound understanding.

As for the Arch-agitator, the spirits taken at the house of old Jean, had raised the savage part of his blood to the highest pitch of unreasoning and confident passion. All obstacles seemed to disappear, and he saw with the same glance the gratification of his passion and of his revenge.

"Take the horses," he had said to his confidant, "before the moon rises. Approach the house softly, and carefully surround it. The girl must be treated with respect. You know where to leave her."

"Oui, Monsieur," and the slavish fanatic went to do the vile bidding.

For some hours M. Riel went among the Metis, perfecting his plans, but towards midnight he ordered his horse, and, with a lurid light in his eye, set off for the hut of the half-breed hag where he expected his ruffianly emissaries would have placed Marie before his arrival. But the cabin was desolate, save for the figure of an ill-featured old woman, who, when she heard hoof-beats approach, came to the door peering out into the night.

"Has the expected yet arrived?" he asked, a half-puzzled expression in his face.

"No, Monsieur."

"Curses! What can have happened? They should have been here two hours ago. It is now three o'clock." Then he alighted and strode about for half an hour over the dim-lit sward, thrusting out his head every few seconds, in the direction from which the party should come. But still no sound, no sight, of any horseman. He now began to storm and blaspheme, and would remind anybody who saw him of some wild beast foiled of his prey. Presently, he observed a long distance off upon the plain, a figure which he believed was moving. Was this only a poplar or a cotton-wood tree? He got upon his knees, and put his ear to the ground; the soft thud of a horse's hoof vibrated under his ear, and he was satisfied.

"But there is only one horseman. What can it mean?" He could not bear the suspense, and flinging himself upon his horse, he galloped out to meet the advancing stranger. It was soon told. The inmates had escaped, evidently long before the party got to the dwelling. The embers were very low on the hearth. Every article of value had been removed, and there were the prints of many hoofs near the cottage.

"Scott has foiled me!" and the outwitted tyrant-libertine swore the most terrible oaths, that he would be revenged.

"Off," he said to his confidant. "You must scour Red River over to find these fugitives. Wherever you see the girl, seize her, and bring her hither. The people must all know that she is a spy, and leagued with our most deadly enemies to thwart our cause. As for the father, catch him too, though I should not fret, if, in the capture, a stray bullet or two went singing through his head. Above all, Scott must be captured," and this was to himself, "let me lay hands upon him!"

The horseman was riding off.

"Stop! This old Jean has relatives in the territory; and with one of these he may be taking refuge."

"I do not think that this is likely, Monsieur. But I learnt, and it was the prosecution of these enquiries among Jean's nearest neighbours, that kept me late in reaching you, that he has a brother in Pembina. Now in that direction did the hoof-marks of the party lead."

"I see. He has gone there, counting on safety beyond the lines; but he leans upon a hollow reed. Let me see: to-morrow at the convention, next day at the grand parade of arms. Yes, on Tuesday evening, take with you forty men to Pembina. Of course, you go there with all speed, and locate the residence. Then on Tuesday night, when you enter the city, surround the house by a sortie You will have nothing to fear from the citizens, they have no force there to oppose yours, and if they had you could accomplish your mission so suddenly that you might be on the prairie with your prize before they had their arms in their hands." The horseman rode off, and the Rebel was alone.

We have seen that Mr. McDougall had appointed his Deputy Colonel Dennis, as Conservator of the peace, and authorized him to organize a force, and put down the Rebellion. The English and Scotch settlers, almost to a man, sympathized with the interdicted governor; yet they did not care to bring themselves into conflict with men, with whom, for years past, they had lived in the most friendly relationship, unless some great necessity arose. As for Riel, they regarded him as an ambitious, short-sighted demagogue, who palmed off his low cunning for brilliant leadership, upon the credulous half-breeds. Nevertheless, a large number of these settlers declared their readiness to march under Colonel Dennis, and disperse the nest of rebels at Fort Garry. I need hardly say that most of the Irish settlers were heart and soul with Riel. It was not that they had any particular grievance to resent, or any grievance at all for that matter. It was as natural to them to rise in revolt, since the rising meant resistance to the lawful authority, as it is for the little duck first cast into the pond, to swim. A red haired, pug-nosed Irishman, coming to New York, leaped ashore and asked,

"Is there a guvernment in this counthry?"

"There is."

"Thin I'm opposed to it."

Much the same was it in the North-West, and the violent, blustering ruffian O'Donoghue was the mouthpiece, the leader, the type of that class of the people.

A number of loyal Scotch and English, therefore, did arise, and they were known as the Portage party. This was some months after the night that we last saw Riel thwarted upon the prairies. In that connection it only remains to be said that the mission of the confidant to Pembina was fruitless; and the Rebel gnashed his teeth that his desires and his revenge had all been baulked. He had heard, however, that Thomas Scott was abroad through his territories; and that he had enlisted under the banner of Colonel Dennis,—which was the truth. What galled him most was, that in case he should succeed in getting Scott into his hands, he had no proofs that would be regarded as sufficient evidence upon which to proceed with the extreme of vengeance toward him. Yet his orders stood unchanged:

"Wherever you find Thomas Scott seize him; and convey him to Fort Garry." On the sixth of December the confidant came into the tyrant's presence and said:

"We have caught Scott." [Footnote: I take the following from Begg's "History of the North-West Rebellion," p. 161: "About this time (6th December), the French arrested and imprisoned Mr. Thomas Scott, Mr. A. McArthur, and Mr. Wm. Hallet. Mr. Scott, it appears, had been one of the party assembled in Schultz's house, but had afterwards left; and no other reason for his arrest is known, except his having enrolled under Colonel Dennis. Mr. McArthur, was, it is said, confined on suspicion of acting secretly on behalf of Mr. McDougall; and Mr. Hallet, for his activity in assisting and advising Colonel Dennis." ] The Rebel leader's eye gleamed with a wolfish light.

"Is he in the Fort?"

"Yes."

"Bon! I shall be there presently." So without any delay he proceeded to the Fort, and entered the apartment where young Scott was confined.

"Ah, Monsieur! This is where you are?"

"Yes, you tyrannical ruffian. But I shall not be here for long." Riel curbed the mad blood which had leaped to his temples.

"Monsieur shall not be here long, if he chooses to accept conditions upon which he may be free."

"Come, for curiosity sake, let us hear the proposals; I am certain that they are foul. Yet, as I say, I am anxious to hear them."

"Monsieur must be reasonable. There is no good purpose to be served by railing at me."

"That is true. You are too infamous a miscreant to be shamed or made better by reproaches."

"Nevertheless, I shall proceed to business, Monsieur. Do you know where old Jean and his daughter have taken up their abode?"

"I do."

"So I suspected. If you will let me know their place of abode, that I may give them my guarantee for their personal safety if they return to their home—as I understand that through some unfounded fear of me they fled, and I am anxious to stand well in the affections of all my people—I shall permit you forthwith to leave this Fort."

"Contemptible villain, liar and tyrant, I will not reveal to you. Begone. By heaven! if you stand there I shall bury my hands in your foul, craven throat."

"Take care, Monsieur," was all M. Riel said, as he left Scott's presence. But his eye burned like a fiend's. The agitator, with a spirit of the most devilish rage consuming him, nevertheless went on to forward the general movement. His first great step was against the followers of Colonel Dennis, who had banded together and posted themselves in the house of Dr. Schultz, a very prominent settler. They had gathered here with arms in their hands, but they seemed like a lot of little children, without any purpose. There was no moral cohesion among them, and there was no force either to lead or to drive them. They were not long thus ridiculously impounded, when they began to look at one another, as if to ask:

"Quis furores o cives?"

They were not alone unprepared and undetermined to go up to Fort Garry, and fight the greasy Rebel and his followers, but they were by no means certain as to what they should do were the enemy to come against them. And this is just the very thing that the enterprising Monsieur Riel proposed to do. It is said that about this time he was often found reading books describing the sudden and unexpected military movements of Napoleon. And I have not the remotest doubt that the diseased vanity of the presumptuous crank enabled him to see a likeness in himself to the Scourge of Nations. So he said to his men:

"We shall go down and capture this Dennis' geese-pound. Better turn out in good force, with your arms, though I am quite certain that you can capture the whole caboose with broom-sticks." So the Metis thronged after his heels, and surrounded the Schultz mansion with its "congregation of war spirits." Of course there is something to be said for the gathering together of these loyal people here, as there is for the issuing of the proclamation by the citizens of London, per the mouth of the three tailors. Beyond was Fort Garry, unlawfully seized by Riel, and now unlawfully invested by his troops. This was, therefore, a menace to the unlawful combination at the fort. At once the agitator began to dictate terms. If they would come out of their ridiculous hive, and surrender their arms, he would suffer no harm whatever to befall them; but content himself with merely taking them all in a lump, and locking them up prisoners in the fort. He would, however, insist upon other formalities; and, therefore, exhibited a declaration which he would ask them to sign. By this document each man would bind himself to rise no more, but to submit to the authority of the Provisional Government. There was very little parleying. Each brave loyalist took the paper, and put his name to it. [Footnote *] Dr. O'Donnell was the first to sign his name, and after he had done the rest followed and with much credit to the celerity of their penmanship. Then they all moved out and were escorted up to Fort Garry, where they were held for a considerable period, despite the prayers of prominent persons who had taken no active part on either side, for their liberation.

[* Footnote: I take the following from Mr. Begg's History of the Rebellion: "In the meantime, there were from two to three hundred armed French half-breeds, as well as a number of lookers-on, around and outside the building; and it is said that a couple of mounted cannon (six pounders) were drawn outside the walls of Fort Garry, ready to be used in case of an assault upon the besieged premises.

"When all those in the house had signed, and the surrender handed to Riel, he said that there were two signatures not on the list, which ought to be there—and which he insisted upon having. These were the names of James Mulligan and Charles Garrett. A guard from the French party was therefore sent to hunt up those two men; and in a short time they returned with the individuals they had been in search of. As soon as this had been done, the prisoners were taken out and marched to Fort Garry; and the following ladies, who, during the siege, had nobly resolved upon remaining by the side of their husbands, also insisted upon accompanying them to Fort Garry.

"The following are the names of the ladies: Mrs. Schultz, Mrs. Mair, Mrs. O'Donnell; and as the first named lady was ill, probably from the excitement of the past few days, a sleigh was procured, and Dr. Schultz himself drew her along in it, behind the rest of the prisoners. When they reached Fort Garry, Mr. J. H. McTavish, accountant in the Hudson Bay Company service, kindly offered to give up his private quarters for the use of the married men and their families, and thus made things more comfortable for the ladies."]



CHAPTER VIII.

In the meantime, the Government at Ottawa had convinced itself that affairs were in a pretty bad mess in the North-West. Therefore they dispatched, with olive branches, two commissioners to treat with the malcontents. It is hardly worth while to mention the names of these two gentlemen, though I may as well do so. They were Vicar-General Thibeault, this prelate, I understand, being a relative of the gentleman who produced the life of Sir Charles Tupper, and Colonel DeSalaberry. Mr. Donald A. Smith, the chief officer of the Hudson Bay Company, was also dispatched. He was instructed to inquire into and report upon the cause of the disturbances and also to assist Governor McTavish, or to relieve him, altogether of duties should ill health have incapacitated him. Mr. Smith arrived in due season at the settlement, and sought an interview with the Rebel leader in Fort Garry. M. Riel very readily admitted him; and then turned the keys upon him. It was a very great pity that it was not upon some members of the beautiful government at Ottawa that he had the opportunity of fastening the locks! There were now about sixty prisoners in the fort; the British ensign had been hauled down, and the flag of the Provisional Government, a combination of fleurs de-lys and shamrocks, hoisted in its stead. When the news got abroad that an agent had come from Canada to treat with the people on behalf of the Canadian Government, that Mr. McDougall was in disfavour with the Dominion ministry, and had returned to Ottawa, M. Riel's influence began to diminish sensibly.

"Let us hear what Donald Smith has to say to us," they began to cry; and the Arch Rebel was fain to consent. A monster meeting of 1,100 people was held in the open air, with the thermometer twenty degrees below zero. Riel and his followers were not satisfied with the terms of the Dominion agent; and the arch disturber had made up his mind not to be satisfied. Yet he was not secure in his position, for there was much writhing among hosts of his followers under his tyrannical caprices. Sometimes he broke loose from all civilized restraint, and acted like a mad savage. Governor McTavish, who was reaching the last stages of consumption, for some reason incurred the ill-will of the autocrat. One might have supposed that a man tottering on the grave's brink would have been secure from violence and insult; but the heartless Rebel ruffian was insensible to every human impulse. Bursting into the chamber of the sick man, he raged like a wild bull, stamped upon the floor, and declared that he would have him shot before midnight. Then telling off a guard he sent them to invest the house. His rage cooled down after a little, and the murderous threat was not carried into execution. I have said that the loyalty and obedience of his entire followers were, so far, by no means assured. Hundreds who sympathized with the uprising, and in the beginning expressed admiration for his courage and daring, began to be shocked at his tyranny, and to hold aloof. This was the reason, we may be sure, that some of the revengeful threats which he, about this time made, were not carried into effect. He held long counsel with his military leader, Lepine.

"How does the sentiment of the settlement go now? Do they disapprove of my severe measures?"

"They do, Monsieur; and I am inclined to think that you will be obliged to show some generosity, even toward your worst enemies, to maintain the confidence and sympathy of your followers."

"Suppose I release these prisoners?"

"I know of nothing more popular that you could do."

"But Scott? He is my deadliest enemy. It is to give a colour of justification to my attitude towards him that I have incarcerated the rest."

"Even him, Monsieur, I think it would be advisable now to let him depart with the rest. I am quite certain that he will before long, moved by his hatred of yourself, commit some act that will justify you in according to him very stern sort of punishment.

"Be it so. I shall let them all go. But remember: you never must allow this man to pass from under your eye."

Meanwhile poor Marie was far away, sighing all the day for some word from her lover. She had heard that they had captured him and locked him in a dungeon. A terrible fever seized her, and she cried out in her delirium to take her to her lover. For many days after the fire of her illness had cooled, she lay between life and death like some fitful shadow; but when a letter came to her, in the dear writing that she so well knew, announcing that he was once more free, the enfeebled blood began to stir in her veins, and a faint tint of rose began to appear on the wasted cheek.

"I will run over and see my little love during the first breathing time that offers," he wrote. "I hope, ma amie, you are not sorrowing at my absence. No hour passes over me, whether wake or dreaming, that I do not sigh for my darling Marie; but I am consoled with the thought that when the turmoil is ended, when this land of tumult and tyranny has become a region of peace and fruitful industry, I will be able to bring my darling back to her dear old home; and in a little wed her there, and then take her to my arms for ever."

This was very sweet tidings to the desolate girl. She read the letter over and over till she could repeat every word of the eight large pages which it contained. When she began to grow stronger she would keep it in her lap all day, and touch it tenderly as a young mother would her sleeping babe. Before blowing out her lamp in the night she would kiss the letter, and put it under her pillow. When she opened her large bright eyes in the morning she would take it, kiss it, and read it once again.

During all this time the fire of Riel's two-fold passion was not burning lower:—nay, it was growing stronger. His aim now was to make himself such a ruler and master in the settlement that every word of his should be as law, and that no man, not all the people, might disobey his command or censure his action.

"So Thomas Scott is to marry her, when the strife ends," he would speculate. "Ah, Monsieur Scott, if to that time you defer your nuptials, they shall take place in heaven —or in hell." For the furtherance of his diabolical personal aims he now began to assume a benignant, fatherly tone, and when he issued his famous "Proclamation to the people of the North-West," everybody was struck by the calmness, the restraint, and even the dignity of its language. [Footnote *1] He likewise endeavoured to show that he was not a disturber whose only mission was to pull down. Through his instrumentality, and at his suggestion in every one of its details, a Bill of Rights, [Footnote *2] was drawn up, and published to the people. This document set forth little more than what would be regarded as legitimate requests.

[*1 Footnote: This document was as follows:—"Let the assembly of twenty-eight representatives, which met on the 9th March, be dear to the people of Red River! That assembly has shown itself worthy of great confidence. It has worked in union. The members devoted themselves to the public interests, and yielded only to sentiments of good will, duty and generosity. Thanks to that noble conduct, public authority is now strong. That strength will be employed to sustain and protect the people of the country.

"To-day the Government pardons all those whom political differences led astray only for a time. Amnesty will be generously accorded to all those who will submit to the Government; who will discountenance or inform against dangerous gatherings.

"From this day forth the public highways are open.

"The Hudson Bay Company can now resume business. Themselves contributing to the public good, they circulate their money as of old. They pledge themselves to that course.

"The attention of the Government is also directed very specially to the northern part of the country, in order that trade there may not receive any serious check, and peace in the Indian districts may thereby he all the more securely maintained.

"The disastrous war which at one time threatened us, has left among us fears and various deplorable results. But let the people feel reassured.

"Elevated by the Grace of Providence and the suffrages of my fellow-citizens to the highest position in the Government of my country, I proclaim that peace reigns in our midst this day. The Government will take every precaution to prevent this peace from being disturbed.

"While internally all is thus returning to order, externally, also, matters are looking favourable. Canada invites the Red River people to an amicable arrangement. She offers to guarantee us our rights, and to give us a place in the Confederation equal to that of any other Province.

"Identified with the Provisional Government, our national will, based upon justice, shall be respected.

"Happy country, to have escaped many misfortunes that were prepared for her! In seeing her children on the point of a war, she recollects the old friendship which used to bind them, and by the ties of the same patriotism she has re-united them again for the sake of preserving their lives, their liberties, and their happiness.

"Let us remain united and we shall be happy. With strength of unity we shall retain prosperity.

"O, my fellow-countrymen, without distinction of language, or without distinction of creed—keep my words in your hearts! If ever the time should unhappily come when another division should take place amongst us, such as foreigners heretofore sought to create, that will be the signal for all the disasters which we have had the happiness to avoid.

"In order to prevent similar calamities, the Government will treat with all the severity of the law those who will dare again to compromise the public security. It is ready to act against the disorder of parties as well as against that of individuals. But let us hope rather that extreme measures will be unknown and that the lessons of the past will guide us in the future.

"LOUIS RIEL.

"Government House,

"Fort Garry, April 9th, 1870."]

[*2 Footnote: This document claimed:—

"1st. The right to elect our own Legislature.

"2. The Legislature to have power to pass all laws, local to the Territory, over the veto of the Executive, by a two-thirds vote.

"3. No Act of the Dominion Parliament (local to this Territory) to be binding on the people until sanctioned by their representatives.

"4. All sheriffs, magistrates, constables, &c., &c., to be elected by the people—a free homestead pre-emption law.

"5. A portion of the public lands to be appropriated to the benefit of schools, the building of roads, bridges, and parish buildings.

"6. A guarantee to connect Winnipeg by rail with the nearest line of railroad—the land grant for such road or roads to be subject to the Legislature of the Territory.

"7. For four years the public expenses of the Territory, civil, military and municipal, to be paid out of the Dominion Treasury.

"8. The military to be composed of the people now existing in the Territory.

"9. The French and English language to be common in the Legislature and Council, and all public documents and Acts of Legislature to be published in both languages.

"10. That the Judge of the Superior Court speak French and English.

"11. Treaties to be concluded and ratified between the Government and several tribes of Indians of this Territory, calculated to I insure peace in the future.

"12. That all privileges, customs and usages existing at the time of the transfer, be respected.

"13. That these rights be guaranteed by Mr. McDougall before he be admitted into this Territory.

"14. If he have not the power himself to grant them, he must get an Act of Parliament passed expressly securing us these rights: and, until such Act be obtained, he must stay outside the Territory."]

His followers soon began to forget his late manifestation of tyranny and violence, and his enemies found themselves silenced by his restraint, and the wisdom of his declarations. Yet the rebel leader for many reasons, one of which is very well known to the reader, was one of the unhappiest of men. Besides the matter at his heart he lived hourly in mortal dread of bodily harm. In the dead of night he would waken, start suddenly from his bed and clutch at some garment hanging upon the wall, deeming the thing to be an assassin. Mr. Begg says that one day he went out to call upon one Charles Nolin, for the purpose of effecting a reconciliation. While he was sitting in the house eating supper, a man having a gun passed the window; upon which Riel suddenly threw down his knife and fork, and declared that he was about to be shot. Nolin answered that he never would be shot in his house, and immediately went out to see who the man was. It appears that he was an Indian, seeking the way to a comrade's lodge, and perfectly innocent of any murderous intention. Almost immediately after this had occurred, about forty men from the Fort arrived, and accompanied Riel back to his quarters. His terror was so oppressive, that he was threatened with an attack of brain fever.

Sixty miles from Fort Garry was a settlement known as Prairie Portage. The inhabitants to a considerable extent consisted of whitemen, and English and Scotch half-breeds. When news reached this community that the Disturber had taken sixty prisoners and locked them up in Fort Garry, a feeling of the deepest indignation took possession of all. A number of the settlers called upon Major Boulton, a gentleman who had at one time been a captain in the 10th Regiment, and spoke to him in this wise:

"We can muster here 400 good fighting men, and if I you will lead us we shall march against this scoundrel, I liberate the people whom he has shut up in the Fort, and put an end to the rebellion."