"You hold out a very fair prospect," Major Boulton answered, "but I have very grave doubts that the thing can be accomplished as easily as you imagine."

"We have the arms, and we are determined to move against that presumptuous nest of domineering banditti. If you do not lead us, then the command will have to fall upon one of ourselves, and there is no man amongst us who has had any experience in leadership."

"How are your numbers made up?"

"We have nearly a hundred immigrants, and about double that number of English-speaking half-breeds."

"I consent to your request, but you must distinctly know that I do so altogether against my own judgment. Against my judgment only, however, not against my inclinations." Very speedily the force was marshalled together, and organised in rough shape. Winter now reigned in all its severity upon the plains. Recently snow had fallen, and without snow shoes it was next to impossible to march. The arms of this crudely-disciplined band, as may be imagined, were not of the most approved pattern. Some of the half-breeds had flint-locks, and their highest average of "going-off" capacity was about 33 1/3 per cent. That is to say, out of three snaps you got the piece "off" once. The miscarriages were made up of "missing fire" and "burning prime."

Now, while this dangerous army was marching toward Fort Garry, Riel, on the advice of his military chief, Lepine, had liberated the prisoners. Many of the latter tarried not long on the shadow of the rebel stronghold. Thomas Scott learned, on leaving the stockade, that a heavy force was proceeding to the Fort to overthrow the rebels, and made all haste to join the loyalists.

Major Boulton was not without some definite and even commendable plan of procedure, much as he has been criticised by those who always show their wisdom after the event. To young Scott he detailed his programme.

"My ambition is," he said, "to delude the rebels as to my movements, by affecting a desire to treat with them. Therefore, I shall halt with my forces a short march from Fort Garry, and when I have lulled suspicion, I will make a dash, in the night, trusting to the suddenness and vigour of the onset for success." Such a proceeding Scott strongly approved, and Major Boulton found that the young man's knowledge of the rebels' condition would be of the greatest value to the enterprise. So with considerable enthusiasm the force marched on. Now, however, the sky became a sullen indigo, and flakes of spitting snow began to drive out of the east.

"I have some fear of that sky," the commander said to his followers. "If more snow comes, there is an end of the march." All day, and through the night and during the next day, the storm raged, covering the prairie with four feet of soft snow. Riel's scouts had given warning of the approach of the loyalists, and every man in the fort seized a fire arm, ready to march instantly upon the besiegers. The ruffianly O'Donoghue was fairly in his element.

"Boy hivins and airth," he said, "but it's moyself that's itching to get at those lick-shpittle loyalists. Veeve lah Republeekh," he shouted, tossing his filthy hat, "and God save Oirland."

"We must return, my men," Major Boulton said. "If these well-armed rebels were to come against us now, they would butcher us like sheep." With hearts full of disappointment, the force disbanded, and the men began to retrace their steps homeward. A portion of it, however, remained together. Some in sleighs and others on foot verged off across the prairie from St. John's school-house, in this way endeavouring to avoid Fort Garry. But Riel's eyes had been upon them, and big, unwashed O'Donoghue, mounting his horse, shouted—

"We've got thim. Veeve lah Republeekh; God save Oirland," and set out over the plain, followed by a host of little Frenchmen, bristling like porcupines, with their war-like inclinations.

"Surround the lick-shpittles, Mounsieurs," shouted the big, red Irishman. "Veeve lah, Veeve lah!" he screamed, and beat the flanks of his horse with his monster feet. The big ruffian was fairly delirious for a fight. "Thim are the min. Mounsieurs," he shouted, "that robbed my counthrey of her liberty. Him thim in, Mounsieurs." In this way he continued to shout, his voice sounding over the snowy waste like the bellowing of a bull. As he neared the portage detachment, he perceived Major Boulton, whom he knew.

"Oha," he bellowed, "Mr. Chief Sassenach. Veeve lah Republeekh, God save Oirland! Surrender me brave lick-shpittle. What's this? Tare en nouns, if it isn't Tom Shkott. Divil resaive me you'll not get off this time. Lay down your arms, traitors and crown worshippers. Lay thim down. Drop thim in the shnow. There, don't be too nice. Down wid thim. Or will ye foight? But it's meself that would loike a bit of a shindy wid ye." Thereupon he took his rifle, loaded it, and pointed it at the head of Major Boulton.

"Major," he shouted, "your eye is covered. Divil resaive me if I couldn't knock it out quicker nor you could wink." Then he lowered his piece, waved his greasy hat around his big sorrel head and yelled,

"Veeve lah! Capture thim all, even to that cratur," pointing to a little, thin, spiteful-looking man, with a face much like a weasel's. His skin was the colour of the leaf of the silver poplar, his eyes were very quick, and they snapped and scintillated upon the smallest provocation. He was one of the most cantankerous, self-willed men in the whole company, and was under the impression that his advice was worth the combined wisdom of all the rest. He had heard the contemptuous reference made to himself by O'Donoghue, and his little eyes fairly blazed.

"Yes, me take you also," a big, sodden half-breed said, advancing close to the little man.

"Take me? damn your impertinence! Take me?" and quick as thought itself he drew his pistol and snapped it once, twice, three times in the Metis face. He fairly danced with rage.

"Take me?" he screamed out once again, and, running at the Metis, who had grown alarmed and backed off several paces, he ran the barrel of the pistol down his throat.

"Now, you filthy, red-headed rascal," he said, turning toward the leader, "if you will come down from your horse, I will settle you in the same way," and running over, he stabbed O'Donoghue in the knee with the muzzle of his pistol, and afterwards punched the horse in the ribs. O'Donoghue quickly turned his horse around and, with a sudden movement, squirted a jet of tobacco juice in the eyes of the tempestuous little loyalist.

"Now, take him up to the fort, my min, wid the rest. Forward, march. Veeve lah Republeekh, and God save Oirland, Major Boulton," delivering the latter part of the sentence close to the ear of the captive leader.

[Footnote: The following description of this ridiculous episode in the history of the rebellion is given by Mr. Begg in his history of the troubles:—

"On the morning of the 17th, word was received that the English settlers had disbanded, and were returning to their homes. Soon after this, a small party of men—some in sleighs and others on foot, were seen to verge off across the prairie, from St. John's school-house, appearing as if they wished to avoid the town. As soon as this party was discovered, a body of horsemen emerged from Fort Garry, and started out for the purpose of intercepting them. People in the town, crowded every available spot overlooking the prairie. Faces thronged the windows. Wood piles and fences were crowded with sightseers, all expecting to behold a miniature battle. When the Portage party discovered the French coming out of the Fort they halted, and appeared to hold a consultation; after which, they moved slowly on—the depth of snow impeding their progress. The French, at the head of whom was O'Donoghue, continued to gallop over the snow drifts, halting now and again for stragglers. At last the two parties met, but instead of a fight, they mixed together for some minutes, and then they all started in the direction of Fort Garry. They have been taken prisoners, was the conclusion by the lookers-on, and so, indeed, it turned out to be. Several of the Portage party refused at first to give up their arms; but ultimately they consented to do so, and were all taken to Fort Garry, where they were imprisoned in the same rooms which had only recently been vacated by the first lot of prisoners. It is said that the Portage party gave themselves up, on the understanding that Riel merely wished to speak to them and explain matters. If this is the case, they were not justly dealt by, for immediately upon their arrival at Fort Garry, they were put in prison, and Major Boulton, their leader, placed in irons. What a singular change in affairs this occasioned;—twenty-four prisoners liberated on the 15th,—forty-eight prisoners taken on the 17th."]

Let us now return to the vengeful Riel. Never steady of purpose, or resting his faith upon logic, he had begun to curse himself for taking Lepine's advice and suffering Scott to depart.

"After all, he may elude me, go out of the territory, and marry the girl. Curses, a thousand curses upon my own head for following the advice. Malediction upon Lepine's head for having given it to me." Just at this moment, the door opened, and Lepine entered.

"I bring Monsieur good news."

"Ah, what is it? Any tidings of Scott?"

"He is at this very moment in the fort; having been caught among Major Boulton's party. He was most insolent to myself and O'Donoghue, and used very abusive language respecting yourself. I think, Monsieur, you have cause sufficient against him now."

"Bon! bon! Yes,—he shall not escape me this time," and rising, he began to stride up and down the floor, his eyes flaming with hate and vengeance.

"Now, Monsieur Lepine, give me your attention. At once go and put Boulton in irons. I shall attend presently, and declare that he is to be shot to-morrow. Suppliants will come beseeching me to spare his life, but at first I will refuse to do so, and say that I am determined to carry out my threat. At the last I will yield. So far, so good. I do not know, now, whether you understand my methods or not."

[Footnote: The following is Mr. Begg's version of this part of the affair:—"Riel granted the lives of three, but Major Boulton, he said, would have to die that night. It now began to look very serious. Archdeacon McLean was called upon to attend the condemned man during his last moments, and a feeling of oppression was felt by all at the thought of a human being to be thus sent to his last account on such short notice, at midnight, too (the hour appointed for the execution)—midnight—the very thought of a man being brought out in the stillness of the night to be shot like a dog was horrible in the extreme. Still there were no lack of interceders, although little hope was now entertained of Major Boulton being spared. People retired to their homes that evening with mingled feelings of hope and Uncertainty, mixed with horror at the deed about to be committed. And how was the prisoner during all this time? Calm and resigned to his fate. After writing a few lines to his friends in Canada, he called for a basin of water and a towel with which to wash his face and hands, and a glass of wine to prevent him, if possible, from shivering when passing into the cold night air, in case people might attribute it to fear. He spoke quietly and calmly of the fate before him, and acted altogether as a soldier should do in the face of death. In the meantime the French councillors were sitting in deliberation on Boulton's sentence, the result being that his life was spared. This was communicated at once to the prisoner who received the information as calmly as he had done the sentence of death."]

"I think I do Monsieur," and there was a knowing twinkle in the eye of the wily scoundrel.

"Well, this Scott has an unbridled tongue, and is pretty certain to use it. If he does not, a little judicious goading will soon set him in his most abusive mood. If possible, it would be well for one of the guards to provoke him to commit an assault. Could you rely upon any one of your men for such a bit of business?"

"Oui, Monsieur, I have such a man."

"Bon, let him be so provoked, and after his violence has been thoroughly trumpeted through the fort, make a declaration of the same formally to me. I will then direct you to try him by court martial. You are aware of how I desire him to be disposed of. When the news gets abroad that he is to be shot, some will be incredulous, and others will come to sue for his life. I shall reply to them: 'This is a matter of discipline. The man has deserved death, or the court martial would not have sentenced him. I spared Boulton's life, and already I have as fruits of my leniency, increased turbulence and disrespect. The government of this colony must be respected, and the only way to teach its enemies that it must be, is to make an example of one of the greatest offenders.' Lose no time in completing the work. We know not what chance may work, and rob our hands of the scoundrel. You understand? I am least of all mixed up in the matter, being more concerned with weightier affairs."

"Oui, Monsieur," and making an obeisance, the murderous tool departed. Exactly as it had been planned, it all fell out. Major Boulton was put in irons, and Riel declared that for the sake of peace and the prosperity of the colony, he must be shot. Dozens of people came and implored him to spare the condemned man's life; but he was inexorable. At last, however, "at the eleventh hour," as the newspapers put it, yielding to Mr. Donald A. Smith he said:

"He is spared."

Lepine presented himself before his leader.

"Monsieur, I think that it will not be at all necessary to employ any stratagem to work our man into violence. He has been showering reproaches upon the guards, and loading your name with every sort of ignominious reproach. The guards knew my feelings respecting the man, so during the night they decided to put chains upon him. As the foremost one advanced with the manacles, the prisoner raised his arm, and dealt him a blow on the head which felled him to the ground."

"Bon! Bon!" Riel cried, while he rubbed his hands with satisfaction. "Without applying the little goad at all, he fulfils our will."

"Well, not in the strictest sense, Monsieur. Luc had certain private instructions from me, and he carried them out in a very skilful manner."

"N'importe, Monsieur, N'importe how the thing came about; we have the cause against him, and that suffices. What do you now propose to do, for you are aware Monsieur—" there was now a tone of diabolical raillery in his words—" that this is a matter in which I cannot concern myself, you being the best judge of what is due rebellious military prisoners?"

"Merci, Monsieur! I shall endeavour to merit your further regard. My intention is to proceed forthwith to try him. Already, I have summoned the witnesses of his guilt; and he and you shall know our decision before another hour has passed." Then the faithful Monsieur Lepine was gone.

"No, ma Marie. You shall never deck your nuptial chamber with daisies for Monsieur Thomas Scott. You will find occupation for your sweet little fingers in putting fresh roses upon the mound that covers him. For a feu-de-joie and the peal of glad marriage bells, I will give you, ma petite chere, the sullen toll that calls him to his open coffin, and the rattle of musketry that stills the tongue which uttered to you the last love pledge."

For an hour did he pace up and down the floor gloating over his revenge. Meanwhile I shall leave him, and follow the "adjutant-general," as M. Lepine was known under the Provisional Government. He proceeded to the private room of the military quarters, and entering found his subordinate officers assembled there.

"Messieurs," he said, "We know what our business is. We must lose no time in dispatching it. But before commencing, let me say a few words. Monsieur Riel is so overweighted with other affairs that the matter of dealing with the man Scott rests entirely in our hands. I have just left him, after endeavouring in vain to induce him to be present at the trial; but he could not spare the time to come. By skilfully sounding him, however, I discovered that his sentiment respecting the prisoner are exactly the same as those entertained by myself. What these are, I need hardly say. It is now a struggle between the authority of the Provisional Government and a horde of rebellious persons of which the defendant is the most dangerous. The eyes of our followers are upon us; and if we permit the authority of government to be defied, its officers reviled, and insult heaped upon us, depend upon it we shall speedily lose the hold which we have gained after so many bitter struggles; and become ridiculous, and a prey to the conspiracy which our enemies are so actively engaged in promoting against us. The very fact of this man Scott having leagued himself with our enemies, within a few hours after his release from confinement, is in itself an offence worthy of death; but I shall ask these persons who are here as witnesses to show you that since his capture he has merited death ten times over at our hands. With your permission gentlemen, I will proceed:

"Thomas Scott of Red River Settlement stands charged before this court-martial with treasonable revolt against the peace and welfare of the colony; with having leagued himself with an armed party, whose object was the overthrow of authority as vested in our Provisional Government. He is likewise charged with having attempted criminal violence upon lawfully delegated guards appointed over him, during his incarceration; and likewise with inciting his fellow-prisoners to insubordination and tumult, contrary to the order and well being of authority as established in Red River."

"Luc Lestang."

This person came forward.

"Relate all you know in the conduct of the prisoner Scott that may be regarded as treasonable and criminal, within the past fourteen days."

"On the 17th ultimo, I was present at his capture, a short distance from Fort Garry. He was armed, and was in company with a number of other armed persons who had leagued themselves under one Major Boulton, with the object of capturing Fort Garry, and overthrowing the Provisional Government as established in this colony."

"Have you seen him since his imprisonment in the Fort?"

"I have seen him every day since."

"Will you please state what have been his demeanour and conduct as a prisoner?"

"He has been insulting and disorderly in the last degree."

"Will you specify a few particular examples?"

"I have frequently heard him describe the Provisional Government and its supporters as a band of mongrel rough-scruffs, a greasy, insolent, nest of traitors; and a lot of looting, riotous, unwashed savages. He has used language of this sort ever since his entry into the Fort. Likewise, I have heard him say, that he would have the pleasure of assisting in hanging Monsieur Riel to a prairie poplar; and in putting tar and feathers upon his unwashed, hungry followers."

"Has he been guilty of any acts of violence?"

"He has been guilty of acts of violence. When he became unbearably insubordinate I found it to be my duty to put irons upon him. As I approached him with the handcuffs he smote me twice in the face, and I yet carry the mark that he gave me. [Here the precious half-breed pointed to his right eye, which was a dusky purple.] This black eye I received from one of his blows."

"That will do, Luc."

Another witness with the movements of a snake, and eyes as black as sloes, was called; and he gave evidence which tallied exactly with that sworn to by Luc Lestang. This, of course, was not a very extraordinary coincidence, for he had been present while the first miscreant was giving his evidence. But poor Scott, whose life was the issue of all the swearing, was not permitted to be present, but was kept without in a distant room, chained there like a wild beast.

"The Court," said the adjutant-general, "has heard the accusation against this man; and its duty now is to consider whether or not the safety, the peace, the well-being of the government and the state, demands that the extreme penalty should be visited upon this common disturber and enemy both. The question is, whether he is worthy of Death, or not. You will retire gentlemen,—" there were four of them, exclusive of witnesses, and the clerk—"and find your verdict."

They were absent about two minutes. The foreman then advancing said:

"Monsieur Adjutant, WE FIND THE PRISONER SCOTT, GUILTY."

Then drawing upon his head a black cap, the adjutant said:

"After due and deliberate trial by this Court, it has been found that the prisoner Thomas Scott, is 'Guilty.' I do, therefore, declare the sentence of this court martial to be, that the prisoner be taken forth this day, at one o'clock, and shot. And may God in His infinite mercy, have mercy upon his soul."

Monsieur Riel had been all this while pacing up and down his room. A tap came upon his door.

"Entrez. Ah, it is you, mon adjutant!"

"Oui, mon president."

"What tidings?"

"C'est accompli. The court-martial has found the prisoner guilty; and he is condemned to be shot at one o'clock this day."

"Monsieur is expeditious! Monsieur is zealous. C'est bon, c'est bon; merci, Monsieur." And the miscreant walked about delirious with the exuberance of his gratification. Then he came over to where his adjutant stood, and shook his hand; then he thrust his fingers through his hair, and half bellowed, his voice resembling that of some foul beast.

"La patrie has reason to be proud of her zealous son," and he again shook the hand of his infamous lieutenant. Then with a very low bow M. Lepine left the room, saying as he departed,

"I shall endeavour to merit to the fullest the kindly eulogy which Monsieur President bestows upon me." The news of Scott's sentence spread like fire around the settlement. Some believed that the penalty would not be carried out, while others declared that they thought otherwise.

"If this prisoner is pardoned, people will begin to treat the sentences of the Provisional Authorities as good jokes. Riel must be aware of this; therefore Scott is likely to suffer the full penalty." Several persons called upon the tyrant, and besought him to extend mercy to the condemned man, but he merely shrugged his shoulders!

"This prisoner has been twice rebellious. He has set bad example among the prisoners, assaulted his keeper, and loaded the Provisional Government with opprobrium. I may say to you, Messieurs, however, that I have really nothing to do with the man's case. In this time of tumult, when the operation of all laws is suspended, the Court-Martial is the only tribunal to which serious offenders can be referred. This young man, Scott, has had fair trial, as fair as a British Court-Martial would have given him, and he has been sentenced to death. I assume that he would not have received such a sentence if he had not deserved it. Therefore I shall not interfere. There is no use, Messieurs, in pressing me upon the matter. At heart, I shall grieve as much as you to see the young man cut off, but his death I believe necessary now, as an example to the hundreds who are desirous of overthrowing the authority, which we have established in the colony." The petitioners left the tyrant with sorrowful faces.

"My God!" one of them exclaimed, "it is frightful to murder this young man, whose only offence is resistance to probable insult from his debased, half-breed keeper. Is there nothing to be done?"

No, there was nothing to be done. The greasy, vindictive tyrant was lord and master of the situation When Riel was alone, he began once more to walk up and down the room, and thus mused aloud:

"I shall go down to his cell. Perhaps, if I pretend that I will spare his life, he may tell me where resides Marie.

"Yes," he was sure that he would succeed, "I shall get his secret by promising pardon; then I will spit upon his face and say 'die dog, I'll not spare you.'" So forth he sallied, and made his way to the cell where the young man sat in chains.

"Well, malignant tyrant, what do you here? Whatever your business is, let it be dispatched quickly, for your presence stifles me. What dishonourable proposal have you now to make?"

"Monsieur Scott, it seems to be a positive pleasure to you to revile me. Yet have I sought to serve you;—Yea, I would have been, would now be, your friend."

"Peace; let me hear what it is that you now propose?"

"You are aware that it is ordered by Court-Martial, of which, I was not a member, that you are to be shot at one o'clock this day? It is now just forty-five minutes of one. I can spare your life, and I will do it, upon one condition."

"Pray let me hear what dishonour it is that you propose? I ask the question now, for the same reason that I made a similar query during my first incarceration, out of a curiosity to learn, if possible, a little more of your meanness and infamy."

"And I reply to you as I answered before, that I shall take no notice of your revilings, but make my proposal. I simply ask you to state to me where Jean and his daughter Marie have taken up their abode?"

"Where you will never find them. That's my answer, villain and tyrant, and now begone."

"Perhaps you imagine that the sentence will not be carried out. I ask you to choose between life and liberty, and an almost immediate ignominious death."

"I care not for your revenge, or your mercy. Once more I say, get you gone." Then the ruffian turned round, rushed at the chained prisoner, and dealt him a terrific kick in the side, after which he spat upon his face.

"She shall be mine!" he hissed, "when your corpse lies mouldering in a dishonoured traitor's grave." The young man was chained to a heavy table, but with a sudden wrench, he freed himself, raised both arms, and was about bringing down his manacled hands upon the tyrant miscreant —and that blow would have ended the rebellion at Red River,—when Luc burst into the room, seized the prisoner, and threw him. While his brute knee was on the young man's breast, and his greasy hand held the victim's throat, Riel made his escape, and turned back to his own quarters.

As for poor Scott, when the tyrant, and the brutal guard had left the cell, he began to pace up and down, sorely disturbed. All along he had cherished the hope that the tyrant would be induced to commute the sentence to lengthy imprisonment. But the diabolical vengeance which he had seen in the tyrant's eye now began to undermine his hope of life. Some friends were admitted to his cell, and they informed him that they had pleaded for him, but in vain.

"And do you think that he will really perpetrate this murderous deed?" he asked.

"Most assuredly he will; and now nothing remains for you but to prepare to meet your doom like a true man. You are not the first who has suffered in like manner in a cause which history will ever associate with your name. The tyrant who prevails over you, will not triumph for long. Ignominious will be the atonement that he must pay. But you have to show that for the sacred cause of loyalty you know how to die. You have made your peace with God, and there is nought then that you have to fear. You sorrow at going alone, leaving all the world after you, but we go hence too, in a little; and every hour the clock tells, yields a thousand souls to eternity."

"Ah, my friends, this is all true, but I am young, and I had cherished one very sweet hope."

"This has been the fate of tens of thousands."

"I should not have shrunk from death six months ago, had he set me up as a target for his half-breed murderers. I should have uttered no word of repining, but it is different now: O God, it is very different."

All hung down their heads. They were vainly trying to hide their tears.

"And even for myself, under the new condition which has arisen, I would not care. It is because of her—because of my pure, beautiful love, my Marie, whom this fiend has so persecuted, that I cannot look upon my doom with calmness. I had thought that there was such a happy future in store for us, for her and me, when this tumult was ended!" Then he took paper and pen and wrote a letter, which, when he had sealed it, he gave into the hands of the clergyman.

"That address must be known only to one," he said. "It is not safe to post the letter anywhere in Canada; but, as a dying request, I ask that you have it put in the post at Pembina."

"I shall with my own hand deliver it. I shall set out to-morrow."

"May God, sir, send you comfort in your affliction. Pray remain as long as you can with my darling;—tell her, for it will help her better to bear the blow, that I was cheerful, and that I said I had no fear but that she and I would meet it heaven, and that when I went there I would pray to my God in her behalf every day. She has no token of mine. Take this ring and give it to her, and my scarf-pin, which in her sweet, childish fancy she used so to admire. Tell her that I died—I have told her in my letter—but repeat it to her, with my heart full, O so full! of love for her."

There was now a rude bustling at the door; the rusty key was plied, and with a harsh scream the bolt flew back. Then the evil-looking Luc entered, followed by five or six others, all of whom were partially intoxicated.

"Your hour has come, young man," he said, in a brutal voice. "Let us be going."

"My God, this is a cold-blooded murder," poor Scott said, turning to Mr. Donald A. Smith and the Rev. Mr. Young. Then he bade good-bye to the visitors and to his fellow prisoners, and walked forth with the guard closely accompanied by Mr. Young. Before they got outside the prison door the miscreant leader said,

"Stop a moment." Then taking a white handkerchief he tied it round the victim's eyes. Regarding it for a moment, he said, "That will do, I guess. Here, two of you men, take him by the arms." During this time the prisoner was engaged in deep prayer, and remained so till he reached the place of execution. This was a few yards distant, upon the snow, where a coffin had been placed to receive his body. Addressing Mr. Young, he said:

"Shall I stand or kneel?"

"Kneel," the clergyman answered in a low voice.

"Farewell," [Footnote: I get the details of the execution from a report of the occurrence by Hon. Donald A. Smith. The extract is likewise to be found in Captain Huyshe's Bed River Expedition, pp. 18-19.—The Author.] he said, to Mr. Young, then "My poor Marie!" While these words were upon his lips there were several rifle reports, and this high-spirited, sunny-hearted young fellow, fell backwards into his coffin, pierced by three bullets. Mr. Young returned to the body but found the victim was still alive. He groaned several times and moved his hands; whereupon one of the party approached with a pistol and discharged it into the sufferer's face. The bullet entered at the eye and passed round the head. Then the body was straightened out in the coffin and the lid nailed down. The whole affair was so revoltingly cruel that it is with pain one is obliged to write about it. It is said, and upon authority that there is little room to question, that even after the cover had been put upon the coffin, the young man was still heard to groan, and even to cry. Mr. Young then asked that he might be permitted to take the body and give it interment in the burying ground of the Presbyterian Congregation, but his request was not granted, and a similar favour was refused to the Bishop of Rupert's Land. The body was taken inside the Fort where Lepine declared it was to be buried; and where an actual burial did take place before a number of spectators. The coffin, afterwards exhumed, was found to contain only stones and rubbish. What the fate of the body was no one has since discovered, but it has been conjectured that it was taken during the night by Riel's bloodhounds and dropped through the ice into the river.

Mr. Young was faithful to his pledge. On the following day he set out over the bitter, snowy wastes for Pembina, and thence through storm, and over pathless stretches he held his way till he reached the settlement where abode Marie and her father.

She was sitting at the window-pane thinking of her lover when the stranger passed; and she opened the door to the clergyman's knock. There could be no mistaking who this girl was, and the clergyman's heart was numb as he looked upon her.

"Did he send me any message?" And then reflecting that this man was a stranger who may never have seen her lover, she blushed deeply. But she recovered herself in a moment.

"Where does Monsieur come from?"

"From Winnipeg."

"O, then," she thought, "he perhaps does know my beloved. Is there peace there now," she asked, "or is that wicked man still at his evil deeds?"

"There is not peace at Red River, my child. Come in;—it is to speak to you about events at Red River that I have come all the way from that far settlement."

She learnt her doom, and the good clergyman sat by her trying to afford some consolation. But she seemed not to understand the meaning of his words, or even to hear them. The blow had been too overwhelming for mortal tongue to fashion words that could convey aught of comfort. She sat there, her face like a stone, her eyes tearless. Yes, she read his letter and kissed his presents. She would fold the letter sometimes and lay it away near to her heart. Then she would open it again, spread it upon her lap, and sit half the day alternately looking at, and tenderly handling it. A few days and nights were spent during which she spake no word, eat no food, nor took any sleep. At the end of the fourth day they found her on a little seat beside the door where he had said good-bye to her. She had his letter in her hand and his ring upon her finger. But she was dead.



CHAPTER IX.

After the return of Mr. McDougall to Ottawa, and while the Government press busied itself in laying upon that gentleman's shoulders the blame which should have been debited to the blundering of the administration, steps were being taken to have an armed force sent at once to the scene of tumult, to restore the authority of the Queen. Sir Garnet Wolseley, who has since earned distinction in bush and desert fighting, was the officer put in charge of the expedition.

Before this step had been taken, however, the government had set the wheels of a totally different sort of force in motion. Monseigneur Tache, to whom I have already referred, was absent in Rome attending the Ecumenical Council, when the disturbance broke out. Sir John went to M. George E. Cartier then, and said:

"My idea is that the man who can do more to settle this matter than all the wisdom of the Government combined, is Monseigneur Tache. What think you—would it not be well to represent the case to him by cable, and ask him to return?"

"Oui, Sir John,—the suggestion is good." So the bishop was cabled for, and he came home. "Well, Messieurs," he said, "what function is it with which you would endow me? With what have I to deal?"

"The people are in open, armed rebellion. They do not want to come into the confederation; and there is an extensive desire for annexation. The head of the movement is Louis Riel, and he is president of the Provisional Government. He has seized and invested Fort Garry, set up laws for himself, and is feeding and supplying his troops with the property of the Hudson's Bay Company." [Let it be borne in mind that, at this time, the murder of Scott had not been committed, and Riel and his followers were only known to be guilty of having risen in armed revolt, and consumed much of the stores of the Hudson's Bay Company].

"Well, Messieurs, the case is made plain. Now, with what authority do you endow me?"

"We authorize you to say to the Rebels, on behalf of the Government, that if they will peaceably depart to their homes, and submit to the authority of the Queen, as represented by the Government of Canada, no harm will come to them. We authorize you further, to assure them that the Government will stand between them and the Hudson's Bay Company, should the latter seek recompense for stores consumed, or property appropriated. Finally, for the offences committed—and which we have specified —you shall, on our behalf, extend pardon to each and all."

Armed with this authority, the bishop set out. Before he reached Winnipeg the blood-thirsty president had murdered Scott. I hope the reader has not forgotten that Monseigneur was the same divine who used to look with delight upon Louis Riel when a child, and stroke his glossy, black hair. That he was the same gentleman who found for the lad a benefactress in the person of Madame Masson.

The stars were fighting for the murderer, and he knew it when he heard that his personal friend and warm admirer was coming. His Lordship was not nearly as badly shocked as most humane people might suppose, when he heard that Thomas Scott had been butchered like a dog upon the snow. Indeed, there is some authority to say that he was not shocked at all. His good priest, Pere Richot, who got the bishop's ear, took a highly moral and humane view of the matter.

"Shooting served the fellow right, Monseigneur," [Footnote: Captain Huyshe and several other writers of high repute, are my authority for this statement.] he said. "He was a disturber, and it was good to make an example of him."

In a little, we may be sure, the Monseigneur's opinion did not differ very widely from that of the "crocmitaine" priest.

"Let the people all assemble," the bishop proclaimed: "I have important declarations to make to them." They obeyed his mandate, and he said:

"I am authorized by the Government of Canada, to inform you that if you forthwith depart to your lawful habitations in peace, you will have nothing to fear. Your rebellious deeds will be forgiven to you; the other unfortunate event will likewise be overlooked, and the Hudson Bay Company, whose provisions you have eaten and whose property you have appropriated, will be indemnified by government, if they take steps to obtain restitution for the same."

One month later, years afterwards, this precious divine maintained that the authority with which he had been clothed by the Government—and I have given that authority substantially—endowed him with the power to grant pardon for the murder of Scott! Without tiring the reader, let me say that it was by means of the discussion and the perplexities which subsequently arose upon this point, that the miscreant-fiend escaped the vengeance of the law. Monseigneur had not lost his interest or affection yet for the lad for whom he had procured an education!

The bloody Guiteau, however, did not consider the pardon a very great act of liberality. On the contrary, he was inclined to regard the discussion of his guilt, the guilt of the president of an independent colony! who was law-maker and law-dispenser in himself, as somewhat of an impertinence. He still continued to administer the government, and to live sumptuously in the house of Governor McTavish. About him here he had gathered some of his most powerful followers, one of which was the big fenian, O'Donoghue. These ate and drank to their heart's content, but from their wallowing and disgusting habits the residence soon resembled a filthy lair where pigs lie down. Yet the Rebel Chief had spared no pains to make it luxurious; conveying thither, with other plunder, the effects of the house of Dr. Schultz.

When it was at first told Riel that Sir Garnet Wolseley, at the head of a large force, was marching against him, he refused to believe it. It was not till he actually with his own eyes, saw the troops that he was convinced. Then with hysterical precipitation the greasy murderer scurried out of the Fort, mounted a horse, and rode away in mortal terror. Later, he was reduced to the necessity of walking, and when his boots were worn off his feet, there was blood in his foot-prints. In this plight he met a follower who used to tremble before him in the days of his power, and to be like unto Caius Marius, he said to this man:

"Go back and tell your friends that you have met Louis Riel, a fugitive, barefooted, without a roof above his head, and no where to go." This beastly, murderous tyrant did actually imagine himself to be a hero!

Later on he was supplied with money by Sir John Macdonald to keep out of the country. The amount was not paid to him in a lump, but his good friend, the whilome bishop, and now archbishop, paid it out whenever the worthless, vagabond rascal came and represented himself as being very needy.

He often, in his fallen days, would go about sighing for Marie, and declaring that, with all his vengeful feelings towards her, she was the only maiden whom he had ever really loved. Old Jean came back and settled with a sad heart, in the little cottage where had grown up his sweet Marie. It was very desolate for his old heart now. The ivy wreathed itself about the little wicker house, as was its wont, but Marie was not there. The cows came as usual to the bars to be milked, but there was a lamenting in their lowing call. They missed the small, soft hand that used to milk them, and never more heard the blithe, glad voice singing from La Claire Fontaine. Paul worked bravely and strove to cheer his father; and Violette, with her bright, quick eyes, just a little like Marie's, would come down and sing to him, and bring him cool, pink, dew-bathed roses. He thanked them all; but their love was not sufficient. His heart was across the prairies by a grave upon which the violets were growing. Before the leaves fell he was lying by her side. A cypress marks the graves, and the little brook goes by all the summer.



CHAPTER X.

We left the murderer upon the plains making speeches like Marius on the ruins of Carthage. The self-imposed banishment did not endure for long; and the swarthy face of Louis Riel was once more seen in Riviere Rouge. When tidings of the murder got abroad, English-speaking Canada cried out that the felon should be handed over to justice. I say English-speaking Canada, for the French people almost to a man gave their sympathy to the man whose hands were red with the blood of his fellow creature. They could not be induced to look upon the slaying as an act of inhuman, bloody, ferocity, with which the question of race or religion had not the remotest connection.

"It is because Riel, a Frenchman and a Roman Catholic, shot Thomas Scott, an Englishman and a Protestant, that all this crying for vengeance is heard over the land. Now, had the cases been reversed, we would hear no English lamentings over a murdered Riel." This was in effect what they said, impossible, almost, as it might seem for one to be able to credit it. For illiterate persons, who could see no treason in the uprising, to condone the tumult and havoc, and regard even the murder justifiable, was what might have been expected. But what shall be said for M. George E. Cartier, the "enlightened statesman," for Pere Richot, the "crocmitaine," for Pere Lastanc, the Vicar-General, and finally, for Monseigneur himself? Nothing can be said! We can only as Canadians all hang down our heads in shame, that any section of our common country should make such an exhibition of itself in the sight of humanity.

The protege of the Hierarchy was not long to mope about the plains like another dumb and fallen Saturn. No less proportions than that of un Dieu hors de combat, a very God overthrown, would the deluded followers accord to the overwhelmed chief. The clergy never suffered any aspersion to be thrown upon "le grand homme" for by no less appellation was he known.

"He has been your benefactor," the coarse "crocmitaine" Richot would say. "Had he not risen and compelled Government to grant you your rights, you would forever have been down-trodden by Canadian tyrants. When the rage of the heretics in Ontario shall have cooled down we must send Le Bienfaiteur to Parliament. And the time did actually come when the murderer appeared upon the hustings in the West soliciting the votes of the people. Nor did he appeal in vain. He was elected. Nay, more than this, he set out for Ottawa, entered that city, and in the open light of day walked up to the Parliament Buildings, and in the eyes of officials and of the public subscribed his name to the Members' roll. Thousands have been in the habit of denouncing Sir John for permitting an unhung felon to go about as a free man, but when he came red-handed and presuming to Ottawa and enrolled his name, the Reformers were in power."

Before this date, however, the criminal had secured some official eulogy in the West. And it happened in this wise. Some time after the appointment of Mr. Archibald to the Lieutenant-Governorship of Manitoba, several bands of Fenians threatened to invade the territory, and set up above the plains a green flag with a harp and a shamrock upon it. Mr. Archibald had at hand no force to resist the threatened attack, and he became almost delirious with alarm. So he sent a messenger to M. Riel, the untried felon, whose crime was at the time the subject of voluminous correspondence between Canada and the Colonial Office, accepting a proposal made by the ex-Rebel to call out the half-breeds in defence of the new Province. The Fenians did not carry out their threat, but it was much the same for the murderer of poor Scott as if they had. When the danger was blown over the Lieutenant-Governor walked in front of the ex-Rebel lines, expressed his gratitude to the men, and warmly shook hands with Riel and Lepine.

The presence of Riel was yet a standing menace to peace among the half-breeds beyond the limits of the new province. The Canadian Government began to devise means of getting him out of the country. They tried persuasion, but this was not an effective mode. It was at this juncture that a sum was put into the hands of Archbishop Tache to pay the felon in consideration of his withdrawal. All this time Ontario was crying out for the capture of the man; and it was while the amount was being placed to the murderer's credit with the Archbishop, that Sir John raised his eyes toward heaven and said:

"I wish to God I could catch him!"

So Riel took himself out of Canada, and traversed American territory till he found a district it Montana, thickly inhabited by half-breeds. Here he established himself in a sort of a fashion, sometimes tilling the soil, frequently hunting, but all the while talking about Red River. He soon began to forget Marie, and to cast languishing eyes upon some of the half-breed girls living upon the airy uplands. [Footnote: It is stated upon certain authority, how good I don't know, that the brave M. Riel rejoices in the possession of three wives. One is said to be a French Metis, the other a Scotch half-breed, and the third a beautiful Cree squaw with large dusky eyes.] He was regarded as a great hero by these maidens, for long before his coming the daring, brilliancy, and great achievements of Monsieur Riel had been told with enthusiasm at the fireside of every half-breed in Montana. We shall leave M. Riel in Montana, sometimes working, sometimes hunting, always wooing, and take a very brief glance at the causes which led up to the present outbreak.

Under the new legislation for the territories, only those half-breeds within the bounds of the new province were guaranteed secure possession of their land. Under the principle that all territory not granted in specific form to individuals by the Ministers of the Crown, is the property of the Crown, each half-breed who occupied a lot of land under the Hudson Bay Company's rule, was regarded as a squatter under the new regime. To make such holding valid, therefore, the Government issued patents to bona fide squatters, who then found themselves on the same footing as the white immigrants. But beyond Manitoba, and chiefly in Prince Albert, there were large numbers of half-breeds settled over the prairie. So long as no immigrant came prying about for choice land the half-breeds had naught to complain about, but the rapid influx of population soon altered the whole face of the matter. Several squatters who had toiled for many a long year upon holdings, were obliged to make way for strangers who had "friends at court"—for even in the North West wilderness there is, in this sense, a court—and who took a fancy to the particular piece of land upon which "these lazy half-breeds" were squatting. Newspapers, whose business it is to keep the skirts of government clean in the matter, deny this altogether. But, unfortunately, there is no use in denying it. It is but too true, and it is with a feeling of very great regret that I myself, a Conservative, and a warm well-wisher of the administration, affirm it. It is true that in many and many a case, in a greater number of instances than even opponents of the administration suppose, a half-breed who has toiled for a number of years upon a lot, effecting improvements and taking pride in his property, has been dispossessed by an incomer because he could not show a patent from the Interior Department.

But almost as fruitful a source of dissatisfaction as these heartless and dishonest displacements has been the difficulty which the unfortunate squatter has experienced in obtaining his patent. The mills of the gods in the Interior Department grind very slowly. The obtaining of a patent by a deserving squatter as a general rule is about as difficult, and as worthy of applause when achieved, as is the task which lies before a farmer's boy who has decided to become a member of parliament, by first earning money enough to go to school to prepare for a third class teachership, by then teaching school till he has a sufficient competency to study medicine, and by then practising his profession till he finds himself able to capture the riding. Of course there is some excuse, and we must not forget to produce it, for the Department of the Interior. It would be undignified if it were to move with any degree of rapidity. According to etiquette, and the rule is very proper, when the application of the half-breed comes to the office, it must remain for at least four weeks in the drawer set apart for "correspondence to be read." After it has been read it receives one or two marks with a red-lead pencil, after which it is deposited in pigeon-hole No. 1. Now no document ever lodges for a shorter time than a month in pigeon-hole No. 1; and if at the end of that period it should happen to be removed, the clerk lays by his novel or tooth-pick, as the case may be, and puts one or two blue marks upon the back of it. When we consider that there are all the way from six to twenty pigeon-holes, by a simple process of arithmetic we can get approximately near the period which it takes the poor half-breed's prayer to get from pigeon-hole Alpha to pigeon-hole Omega. But during the process the back of the squatter's application has become a work of art. It is simply delightful to look upon. It not alone contains memoranda and hieroglyphics made in red and blue pen-pencil but it is also beautified by marks made upon it in carmine ink, in ink "la brillanza," an azure blue ink, in myrtle green ink, in violette noire; but never, it must be said to the credit of the department, in common black. But all these colours are worthless indeed, viewed from any point of view, compared with its other acquisitions. Solomon himself in all his glory was never decked out more gorgeously than this poor half-breed's greasy sheet of foolscap is at the end of its journey through the pigeon-holes. The prime minister of the Crown in all his pomp of imperial orders has not so many ribbons as this poor vagabond's claim. Sometimes it is swathed in crimson tyings, sometimes in scarlet, now and again in magenta; and I am very happy to be able to say that pink and two very exquisite shades of blue known as birds-egg and cobalt have lately been introduced.

Of course the half-breed complains when the weeks have swelled into months, and the months have got out of their teens, that he has heard no answer to his prayer; but the rascal should try to consider that his document has to make its voyage through the pigeon holes.

In this way there has been much heartburning, and many curses against officialdom and red-tape. While the back of the application is being turned out a christmas card, a stray immigrant comes along, and the squatter half-breed has once more to go back for a new camping-ground.

But there is something to be said—this time I am serious—for the Department in the matter, though not a very great deal. A number of the half-breeds, though a small, a very, very small proportion of the whole, are restless vagabonds, who squat upon lands with no intention of remaining permanently, but only with the object of speculation by selling their scrip, leaving the neighbourhood, taking up another lot, and receiving in like manner disposable scrip again. But the officers of the North-West must know that the half-breed people, in general, are constant-working, and are desirous of achieving comfort, and of affluence. Yet because of the acts of a few unprincipled, lazy wanderers, some will seek to convey the impression that the conduct of the small few is a type of the methods of all.

There is still, among the many irritating causes, all of which my limits will not permit me to dwell upon, one which must not go unnoticed. Mr. Dewdney is not the gentleman who ought to have the immediate administration of North-West affairs in his hands. He has neither the understanding nor the inclination to make him a suitable administrator. Before all things he is there for himself; and he has even figured in the respectable role of land-grabbing. I am sure that if the gentleman is to be provided for by the public no objection would be raised if Sir John were to propose that he be recalled, and receive his salary all the same in consideration of the position he holds in the regard of the prime-minister, and of those who are not exactly prime-ministers or ministers. Mr. Dewdney has not alone got it into his head that an Indian has no understanding; but he must also endow himself with the conviction that he has no nostrils. A friend of Mr. Dewdney got some meat, but the article stank, and the importer knew not how to dispose of it.

"O sell it to the Indians," the Governor said; and, "Lo! to the poor Indian" it was sold; and sold at tenderloin prices.

"We can't eat em meat. He stinks," the poor savage said. "Em charge too much. Meat very bad."

"Let Indians eat their meat," the just Mr. Dewdney retorted; "or starve and be damned." What right has an Indian to complain of foul meat, and to say that he has been charged too high a price for it? He is only a savage!

Let Sir John take care.

Well, this was the state of affairs when Louis Riel, about a year ago, left off his wooing for a little while, and returned to the old theatre of his crimes. He found the people chafing under official injustice, and delays that were almost equivalent to a denial of justice. He did not care a fig for the condition of "his people!" but like the long-winged petrel, he is a bad weather bird, and here was his opportunity. He went abroad among the people, fomenting the discord, and assuring them that if all other means failed they would obtain their rights by rising against the authorities.

But the plain object of this plausible disturber was cash. The lazy rascal had failed to earn a livelihood among the half-breeds of Montana; and now was resolved to get some help from the Dominion Treasury. Presently intimations began to reach the Canadian Government that if they made it worth M. Riel's while, he would leave the disaffected people and return to American territory. The sum of $5,000, it was learnt, a little later, would make it "worth his while" to go back. This, if Sir John's statement in the House of Commons is to be trusted, the administration refused to pay.

And now some good priests made up their valises, and travelled out of the North-West, and all the way to Ottawa, to present the grievances of their people to the ministry. Archbishop Tache likewise showed himself at the capital on the same mission.

"For God's sake," these men said, "give earnest, careful, prompt attention to affairs in the North-West. The people have sore grievances, and they do not get the redress which is their due. If you would prevent mischief and misery, lose no time." And as in duty bound the politicians said: "The government will give the matter its most serious consideration."

M. Royal and the priests returned to the North-West down-spirited enough, and Mr. Macpherson sailed for England, while the half-breeds were making up their minds to obtain by force the rights which they had failed to obtain through peaceable means and persistent prayer.



CHAPTER XI.

The region known as Prince Albert was the chief seat of the disturbance. It has been already pointed out in these pages, that the connecting link between the Indian and the whiteman, is the half-breed. It is not to be wondered at then, that as soon as the Metis began to mutter vengeance against the authorities, the Indians began to hunt up their war paint. The writer is not seeking to put blame upon the Government, or upon the Department delegated especially to attend to Indian affairs, with respect to its management of the tribes. Any one who has studied the question at all, must know that there is nothing to be laid at the door of the Government in this regard.

A very clear statement of the whole question of Indian management, and of the assumption of the North-West Territories, may be found in Mr. Henry J. Morgan's Annual Register for 1878; while the same admirable work, gives from year to year, a capital resume of the condition of the tribes.

Some divines, recently in the North-west, have been discussing the Indian question in some of the religious newspapers of Toronto, but they have treated the question in the spirit of inexperienced spinsters. The Government has been most criminally remiss in their treatment of the half-breeds, but, let it be repeated, their Indian policy gives no ground for condemnation.

Yet when the half-breeds of Prince Albert, incited by Riel, began to collect fire-arms, and to drill in each others barns, the Indians began to sing and dance, and to brandish their tomahawks. Their way of living during late years has been altogether too slow, too dead-and-alive, too unlike the ways of their ancestors, when once at least in each year, every warrior returned to his lodge with scalp locks dangling at his belt. Les Gros-Ventres for the time, forgot their corporosity, and began to dance and howl, and declare that they would fight till all their blood was spilt with M. Riel, or his adjutant M. Dumont. The Blackfeet began to hold pow-wows, and tell their squaws that there would soon be good feasts. For many a day they had been casting covetous eyes upon the fat cattle of their white neighbours. Along too, came the feeble remnant of the once agile Salteaux, inquiring if it was to be war; and if so, would there be big feasts.

"O, big feasts, big feasts," was the reply. "Plenty fat cattle in the corals; and heaps of mange in the store." So the Salteaux were happy, and, somewhat in their old fashion, went vaulting homewards.

Tidings of fight, and feast, and turmoil reached the Crees, and they sallied out from the tents, while the large-eyed squaws sat silently reclining, marvelling what was to come of it all. High into the air the Nez Perce thrust his nostril; for he had got the scent of the battle from afar. And last, but not least, came the remnant of that tribe whose chief had shot Custer, in the Black Hills. The Sioux only required to be shown where the enemy lay; but in his enthusiasm he did not lose sight of the fat cattle grazing upon the prairies.

These, however, were only the first impulses of the tribes. Many of them now began to remember that the Government had shown them many kindnesses, given them tea and tobacco, and blankets; and provided them with implements to plough the lands, and oxen to draw the ploughs. And some of the chiefs came forward and said "You must not fight against the Great Mother. She loves the Indians. The red man is well treated here better than away south. Ask the Sioux who lived down there; they tell you maybe." Such advice served to set the Indians reflecting; but many hundreds of them preferred to hear Louis Riel's words, which were:—

"Indians have been badly treated. The Canadian Government has taken away their lands; the buffalo are nearly all gone, and Government sees the red men die of starvation without any concern. If you fight now you will make them dread you; and then they will be more liberal with you. Besides, during the war, you can have plenty of feasting among the fat cattle." A hellish war-whoop of approval always greeted such words.

At length the rising came. Gabriel Dumont, Riel's lieutenant, a courageous, skilful half-breed, possessed of a sound set of brains, had drilled several hundreds of the Indians and half-breeds. Armed with all sorts of guns, they collected, and stationed themselves near Duck Lake.

"My men," Dumont said, "You may not have to fight, for the officers may agree to the demand which I shall make of them on behalf of the Indians and the half-breed people. But if they refuse, and insist on passing, you know for what purpose you have taken arms into your hands. Let every shot be fired only after deliberate aim. Look to it that you fire low. After you have strewn the plain with their dead, they will go away with some respect for us. Then they will send out Commissioners to make terms with us. In the meantime the success of our attack, will bring hundreds of timid persons to our standard." This harangue was received with deafening cheers.

So the rebels posted themselves in the woods, and filled a sturdily built house near by, waiting for the approach of Major Crosier and his force. At last they were seen out upon the cold snow-covered prairie. A wild shout went up from the inmates of the house, and it was answered from tree to tree through all the wintry wood. In the exuberance of his delight, one Indian would yelp like a hungry wolf who sighted his prey; and another would hoot like an owl in the middle of the night. At last the police and civilians were close at hand. The meeting took place in a hollow. Beyond was the dim illimitable prairie, on either hand were clumps of naked, dismal poplar, and clusters of white oak. Snow was everywhere, and when a man moved the crunching of the crust could be heard far upon the chill air.

Signals were made for a parley, when some of the men from each side approached the line of demarcation. Joe McKay was the interpreter, and while he was speaking, an Indian, named Little Chief, grabbed at his revolver and tried to wrest it from him. A struggle ensued in which the Indian was worsted. Then raising his weapon McKay fired at the red skin, who dropped dead. This was the signal for battle. The voice of Dumont could be heard ringing through the hollow and over the hills. With perfect regularity his force spread out over a commanding bluff. Each man threw himself flat upon the ground, either shielding his body in the deep snow, or getting behind a tree or boulder. Major Crozier's force then drew their sleds across the trail, and the police threw themselves down behind it. Then came the words "Begin, my men," from the commander; —and immediately the crackle of rifles startled the hush of the wilderness. The police were lying down, yet they were not completely sheltered; but the civilians were standing.

"My God, I'm shot," said one, and he fell upon the snow, not moving again. Then, with a cry, another fell, and another. From the woods on every hand came the whistling shot, and the rushing slugs of the rebels. Every tree had behind it a rebel, with deadly aim. But the murderous bullets seemed to come out of the inanimate wilderness, for not no much as the hand that pulled the deadly trigger could be seen. The police had a mountain gun, which Major Crozier now ordered them to bring to bear on the rebels, but the policeman who loaded it was so confused that he put the lead in before the powder. In forty minutes the bloody fray was ended. Seven of the loyalists were dead in their blood upon the snow, two lay dying, eleven others were wounded and bleeding profusely, Then came the word to retire, when the Major's force drew off. From the bluff and out of all the woods now came diabolical yells and jeering shouts. The day belonged to the rebels.

When the police had moved away, the Indians and half-breeds came out from their ambush and began to hold rejoicings over the dead. They kicked the bodies, and then began to plunder them, getting, among other booty, two gold watches. Two of the fallen loyalists they observed still breathed, and these they shot through the head. So closely did they hold the muzzles of their murderous guns that the victims' faces were afterwards found discoloured with powder.

Then returning to camp, they secured seven prisoners whom they had captured, and, leading them to the battle-field, make them look at the stark bodies of the loyalists, at the same time heaping all manner of savage insult upon the dead.

A couple of days later the bodies of the victims were buried upon the plain, by the order of Riel. A little later the snow fell, and gave the poor fellows' grave a white, cold, coverlet.

When tidings of the battle, and of the defeat of our men, reached the east, the wildest excitement prevailed. At once the Minister of Militia began to take stock of his forces, and some regiments were ordered out. The volunteers needed no urging, but promptly offered their services for the front. Their loyalty was cheered to the echo, and thousands assembled at every railway station to see them depart and say "God speed."



CHAPTER XII.

While General Middleton, Colonel Otter, and others of our military officers, were hastening to the scene of tumult, tidings of the most startling kind were received from Frog Lake. Frog Lake is a small settlement, about forty miles north of Fort Pitt, and here a number of thrifty settlers had established themselves, tilling the soil. Latterly, however, some enterprising persons came there to erect a saw and grist mill, for much lumber fringes the lake, and a considerable quantity of grain is produced upon the prairie round about. There were only a few white settlers here, all the rest being half-breeds. Not far away lived detachments of various tribes of Indians, who frequently came into the little settlement, and smoked their pipes among the inhabitants. Here, as elsewhere, the most bitter feelings were entertained by the half-breeds and Indians against the Government, and chief of all against Governor Dewdney. Every one with white skin, and all those who in any way were in the service of the Government, soon came to be regarded as enemies to the common cause. Therefore, when night came down upon the settlement, Indians, smeared in hideous, raw, earthy-smelling paint, would creep about among dwellings, and peer, with eyes gleaming with hate, through the window-frames at the innocent and unsuspecting inmates. At last one chief, with a diabolical face, said,

"Brothers, we must be avenged upon every white man and woman here. We will shoot them like dogs. No harm can come to us; for the great man has said so." (Alluding to Riel.) "When they are all shot the Government will get a big fright, and give the Indians and half-breeds what they ask for." The answer to this harangue was the clanking of barbaric instruments of music, the brandishing of tomahawks, and the gleam of hunting-knives. Secretly the Indians went among the half-breeds squatting about, and revealed their plans; but some of these people shrank with fear from the proposal. Others, however, said,

"We shall join you. Let us with one blow wipe out the injustices done to us, and teach the Government that if they deny us our rights, we will fight for them; and murder those who are the agents of its will." So the plan was arranged, and it was not very long before it was carried out. And now runners were everywhere on the plains, telling that Dumont had a mighty army made up of most of the brave Indians of the prairies, and comprising all the dead shots among the half-breeds; that he had encountered heavy forces of police and armed civilians, and overthrown them without losing a single man. They likewise declared that he had hosts of prisoners, and that the whole of Canada was trembling with fear at the mention of the names of Riel and Dumont.

"Now is our time to strike," said the Indian with the fiendish face, and the wolf-like eyes.

Therefore, the 2nd day of April was fixed for the holding of the conference between the Indians and the white settlers. The malignant chief had settled the plan.

"When the white faces come to our lodge, they will expect no harm. Ugh! Then the red man will have his vengeance." So every Indian was instructed to have his rifle at hand in the lodge. The white folk wondered why the Indians had arranged for a conference.

"We can do nothing to help their case," they said, "we ourselves find it difficult enough to get the ear of Government. It will only waste time to go." Many of them, therefore, remained at home, occupying themselves with their various duties, while the rest, merely for the sake of agreeableness, and of shewing the Indians that they were interested in their affairs, proceeded to the place appointed for the pow-wow.

"We hope to smoke our pipes before our white brothers go away from us," was what the treacherous chief, with wolfish eyes, had said, in order to put the settlers off their guard.

The morning of the 2nd opened gloomily, as if it could not look cheerily down upon the bloody events planned in this distant wilderness. Low, indigo clouds looked down over the hills, but there was not a stir in all the air. Nor was any living thing to be seen stirring, save that troops of blue-jays went scolding from tree to tree before the settlers as they proceeded to the conference, and they perceived a few half-famished, yellow, and black and yellow dogs, with small heads and long scraggy hair, sculking about the fields and among the wigwams of the Indians in search for food.

The lodge where the parley was to be held stood in a hollow. Behind was a tall bluff, crowned with timber; round about it green poplar, white oak, and some firs, while in front rolled by a swift stream, which had just burst its winter fetters. Unsuspecting aught of harm, two priests of the settlement, Oblat Fathers, named Fafard and La Marchand, were the first at the spot.

"What a gloomy day," Pere Fafard said, "and this lodge set here in this desolate spot seems to make it more gloomy still. What, I wonder, is the nature of the business?" Then they knocked, and the voice of the chief was heard to say,

"Entrez." Opening the door, the two good priests walked in, and turned to look for seats. Ah! what was the sight presented to them! Eyes like those of wild beasts, aflame with hate and ferocity, gleamed at them from the gloom of the back portion of the room. The priests were amazed. They knew not what all this meant. Then a wild shriek was given, and the chief cried, "Enemies to the red man, you have come to your doom." Then raising his rifle, he fired at Father Marchand. The levelling of his rifle was the general signal. A dozen other muzzles were pointed, and in a far briefer space of time than it takes to relate it, the two priests lay weltering in their blood, pierced each by half a dozen bullets.

"Clear away these corpses," shouted the chief, "and be ready for the next." There was soon another knock at the door, and the same wolfish voice replied as before, saying,

"Entrez." This time a full, manly-looking young fellow, named Charles Gowan, opened the door and entered. Always on the alert for Indian treachery, he had his suspicion now, before entering he suspected strongly that all was not right. He had only reached the settlement that morning, and had he returned sooner he would have counselled the settlers to pay no heed to the invitation. He was assured that several had already gone up to the pow-wow, so being brave and unselfish, he said,

"If there is any danger afoot, and my friends are at the meeting-lodge, that is the place for me, not here." He had no sooner entered than his worst convictions were realized. With one quick glance he saw the bloodpools, the wolfish eyes, the rows of ready rifles.

"Hell hounds!" he cried, "what bloody work have you on hand? What means this?" pointing to the floor.

"It means," replied the chief, "that some of your pale-face brethren have been losing their heart's blood there. It also means that the same fate awaits you." Resolved to sell his life as dearly as lay in his power, he sprang forward with a Colt's revolver, and discharged it twice. One Indian fell, and another set up a cry like the bellowing of a bull. But poor Gowan did not fire a third shot. A tall savage approached him from behind, and striking him upon the head with his rifle-stock felled him to the earth. Then the savages fired five or six shots into him as he lay upon the floor. The body was dragged away and the blood-thirsty fiends sat waiting for the approach of another victim. Half an hour passed, and no other rap came upon the door. An hour went, and still no sound of foot-fall. All this while the savages sat mute as stones, each holding his murderous rifle in readiness for instant use.

"Ugh!" grunted the chief, "no more coming. We go down and shoot em at em houses." Then the fiend divided his warriors into four companies, each one of which was assigned a couple of murders. One party proceeded toward the house of Mr. Gowanlock, of the firm of Gowanlock & Laurie, who had a large saw and grist mill in course of erection; creeping stealthily along, and concealing their approach by walking among the trees they were within forty yards of the house without being perceived. Then Mrs. Gowanlock, a young woman, recently married, walked out of the house, and gathering some kindling-wood in her apron, returned again. When the Indians saw her, they threw themselves upon their faces, and so escaped observation. Little did the inmates know the deadly danger that so closely menaced them. They went on talking cheerfully, dreaming of no harm. Gowanlock, as I have said, had been recently married, and himself and his young wife were buoyant with hope, for the future had already begun to promise them much. Mr. Gowanlock had gathered the wood with which to make biscuits; and W. C. Gilchrist, and Williscroft, two fine young men, both in Mr. Gowanlock's employ, were chatting with him on general matters. No one happened to be looking out of the window after Mrs. Gowanlock came in; but about half a minute afterwards some shadow flitted by the window, and immediately afterwards six or seven painted Indians, with rifles cocked, and uttering diabolical yells, burst into the house. The chief was with this party; and aiming his rifle, shot poor Gowanlock dead, another aimed at Gilchrist, but Mrs. Gowanlock heroically seized the savage's arms from behind, and prevented him for a moment or two; but the vile murderer shook her off, and falling back a pace or two, fired at her, killing her instantly. Three had now fallen, and as the poor young wife fell crying, "my God!" Croft fell pierced by two or three bullets. Lest the work might not have been sufficiently done, the murderers fired once more at the fallen victims, and then came away from the house.

One of the most deserving of the settlers, but at the same time one of the most bitterly hated, was Dunn, the Indian agent. He was a half-breed, and had for a wife a very pretty Cree woman. For some days past, it is said, that she had been aware that the massacre had been planned; but uttered no word of warning. Stealthily the blood-thirsty band approached the dwelling of Dunn, for they knew him to be a brave man, who would sell his life very dearly. They were aware that in the Minnesota massacre which happened some years ago, that he had fought as if his life were charmed, and escaped with a few trifling wounds. The doomed man was alone on this terrible day, his wife having taken her blanket at an early hour and gone abroad to "talk" with some Cree maidens. Poor Dunn was busy in the little yard behind his house, putting handles in some of his farming implements, and did not perceive the approach of the murderers at all. There were five Indians in the party, and they crept up to within a dozen paces of where the unsuspecting man was at his work. Then, while he whistled a merry tune, they silently raised their rifles and took aim. The unfortunate man fell, pierced with all their bullets and made no stir.

Another detachment of the bloodhounds directed their steps towards the residence of Barnez Fremoine, the Belgian rancher. He was a tall, magnificently-built man, and when the savages got in sight of his house they perceived that he was engaged oiling the axle of his waggon.

Aided by the shelter of an outhouse, they approached within twenty yards of this victim; raised their arms and arrows and fired. He fell likewise without uttering a cry, and made no stir. When found afterwards there were two bullet holes in his head, and an arrow lay lodged in his breast. [Footnote: This fact I get from correspondence to the Ottawa Free Press, a newspaper which, under the great journalistic enterprise of Mr. J. T. Hawke, has kept the people at the Capital well informed from day to day on affairs at the scene of tumult.] Two other persons were surprised in the same way, and shot down like dogs, making a total of eleven slaughtered.

The first official confirmation of the dreadful tragedy was given in a despatch, sent from Fort Pitt to Sir John Macdonald, by police inspector Dickens, a son of the immortal novelist.



CHAPTER XIII.

Perhaps, of all the acts of bravery recorded during this late Rebellion, not one stands out more prominently than that of Inspector Dickens, in resisting, with his little force, a large band of blood-thirsty Crees, till he would, with advantage and honour, retire from his ground. Fort Pitt stands in the centre of the Cree country, and was the scene of the treaty between the Government and the Crees, Chippewayans, Assinniboines and the Chippewas. There was great difficulty at the time in concluding the terms of the treaty. Big Bear, who reigns supreme in the district, and who was spokesman at the treaty, maintained that hanging ought to be abolished, and the buffalo protected. On the whole, he accepted the conditions of the treaty, but, as his people were not present, he would not sign it, although he did sign it in the following year. Big Bear is a noisy, meddlesome savage, who is never in his glory save when he is the centre of some disturbance. He has always shown much delight in talking about war; and he would go without his meals to listen to a good story about fighting. He has the habit to, when the reciter of the story has finished, of trying to discount what he has heard, and to make his auditors believe that some exploits of his own have been far more thrilling. When everything is peaceable, even when there are plenty of buffalo and peltry to be had, this savage is not satisfied; but still goes around asking if there is any news about trouble being about to take place anywhere. If he is told:

"No, everything is quiet; the Indians are all satisfied, because they are doing well." Big Bear will reply, while knowingly closing one eye:

"Me know better than that. There will soon be bloody work. Government break em treaty with Injuns. Lots of Injuns now ready to go out and scalp servants of the Government and white men." When, therefore, tidings reached the land of the Stoney Indians that the half-breeds, with Louis Riel at their head, had broken into revolt, Big Bear pulled off his feathered cap and threw it several times into the air. He went to his wives, a goodly number of which he is in the habit of keeping, and informed them that he would soon bring them home some scalps. He was so elated, that he ordered several of the young men to go and fetch him several white dogs to make a feast. So a large fire was built upon the prairie, a short distance from the chief's lodge, and the huge festival pot was suspended from a crane over the roaring flames. First, about fifteen gallons of water were put into this pot; then Big Bear's wives, some of whom were old and wrinkled, and others of which were lithe as fawns, plump and bright-eyed, busied themselves gathering herbs. Some digged deep into the marsh for roots of the "dog-bane," others searched among the knotted roots for the little nut-like tuber that clings to the root of the flag, while others brought to the pot wild parsnips, and the dried stalks of the prairie pusley. A coy little maiden, whom many a hunter had wooed but failed to win, had in her sweet little brown hands a tangle of winter-green, and maiden-hair. Then came striding along the young hunters, with the dogs. Each dog selected for the feast was white as the driven snow. If a black hair, or a blue hair, or a brown hair, was discovered anywhere upon his body he was taken away; but if he were sans reproche he was put, just as he was, head, and hide, and paws, and tail on—his throat simply having been cut—into the pot, Six dogs were thrown in, and the roots and stalks of the prairie plants, together with salt, and bunches of the wild pepper-plant, and of swamp mustard were thrown in for seasoning. Through the reserves round about for many miles swarth heralds proclaimed that the great Chief Big Bear was giving a White Dog feast to his braves before summoning them to follow him upon the war-path. The feast was, in Indian experience, a magnificent one, and before the young men departed they swore to Big Bear that they returned only for their war-paint and arms, and that before the set of the next sun they would be back at his side.

True to their word the Indians came, hideous in their yellow paint. If you stood to leeward of them upon the plain a mile away you could clearly get the raw, earthy smell of the ochre upon their hands and faces. Some had black bars streaked across their cheeks, and hideous crimson circles about their eyes. Some, likewise, had stars in pipe-clay painted upon the forehead.

Now the immediate object of the warlike enthusiasm of all these young men was the capture of Fort Pitt, an undertaking which they hardly considered worth shouldering their rifles for. But when it came to the actual taking it was a somewhat different matter. There were twenty-one policemen in the Fort and they had at their head an intrepid chief, Mr. Inspector Dickens, already referred to in this chapter. It was useless to fire bullets at the solid stockades; massacre was out of the question, for keen eyes peered ever from the Fort. Big Bear now had grown very ambitious.

"Fort Pitt hardly worth bothering about," he said to his braves. "Plenty of big fighting everywhere. We'll go with Monsieur Riel. But we must have guns; good guns; and plenty of powder and shot and ball. So taking a number of his braves he approached the Fort and began to bellow that he wanted to have a talk. Inspector Dickens appeared, calling out,

"Well, what does Big Bear want?"

"We want guns, and powder, and shot, and ball."

"Pray, what does Big Bear want with them?"

"His young men are suffering of hunger, and they want to go shoot some elk and bear."

"Big Bear is talking with a crooked tongue. He must not have any rifles, or powder or shot, or ball. I advise him to return peaceably to his reserve; and if there is anything that the Government can do for himself, or his people, I am sure they will do it. He will only make matters worse by creating a disturbance."

"Ugh! The great police chief also talks with a crooked tongue; and if he does not give what the Indians ask for, they will burn down the fort, and murder himself and his followers, not sparing either the women or the children."

"If this be your intention, you shall not find us unprepared." Just at this moment two mounted police, who had been out upon the plains as scouts, came in sight, at once Inspector Dickens perceived that the savages meant mischief. A number of rifles were raised at the unsuspecting policemen, then several shots were heard. Constable Cowan fell from his horse dead, pierced by several bullets; Constable Lousby was hit by a couple of bullets, but got into the fort before the savages could prevail.

"Now, my men," shouted Inspector Dickens, "show these insolent savages that you can defy them." At once a raking fire was poured into the rebels. Four of the rebels fell dead, and some scores of others were wounded. The conduct of some of the savages who received slight wounds was exceedingly ludicrous. One who had been shot, in running away, began to yell in the most pitiable way; and he ran about the plain kicking up his heels and grabbing at the wounded spot, which, it is to be inferred, must have been stinging him very badly. I must not omit to speak that before the recontre, chief factor MacLean, who had always been held in high regard among the Indians, went out of the fort to have a parley with Big Bear. Arriving at the door of the chief's lodge, he knocked. Big Bear admitted him with the greatest pleasure, and after he had done so, said:

"Guess me keep you, since me's get you." So the chief factor found himself a prisoner. Then Big Bear informed his captive that if he would write a letter to the rest of the civilians in the fort, asking them to withdraw, and enter into the Indian lodge, he would treat them civilly; but that if they refused, he would set fire to the fort, and they would perish in the flames. This MacLean consented to do, and in a little while there went out from the fort to the Indian prison, Mr. MacLean's family, consisting of eight, James Simpson, Stanley Simpson, W. B. Cameron, one Dufresne, Rev. C. Quinn, and his wife, and Mr. and Mrs. Mann, with their three children. Since that date, these people have been prisoners in Big Bear's camp, and every now and again the tidings come that they are receiving barbarous, and even brutal, treatment. After Big Bear had got possession of all these, he said to his chief young men:

"'Spose we take em in, too, Mounted Police. No harm Get their guns. Keep them here for a spell, and then let 'em go." When he coolly presented himself before the stockades and proposed to Inspector Dickens to come right over to his lodges, assuring him that he would not allow the hair of one of his men's heads to be harmed, Inspector Dickens laughed:

"You are a very presumptuous savage." After the fight which I have described, Inspector Dickens, studying the situation, regarded it in this light:

"The civilians have gone to the Indians, so there is now no object to be attained by keeping my force here. In the battle with the savages I was successful. Therefore, may retreat with honour." Fitting up a York boat, he had it provisioned for the journey, and then destroying everything in the shape of supplies, arms and ammunition Which he could not take away, they started down the river, and after a tedious journey arrived at Battleford, worn with anxious watching, exposure and fatigue, but otherwise safe and well, save for the wounded constable. The brave Inspector was received at Battleford with ringing acclamations. Here, in a little, he was appointed to the command of the Police, superseding Lt.-Colonel Morris. Altogether there is not in the whole campaign an instance in which good judgment and bravery stand out so prominently as in this record of the conduct of the son of our great English novelist.



CHAPTER XIV.

No accident in the whole history of the present rebellion so ill bears to be written about as does this of the sacking of Battleford. This is a town of considerable importance, and it has a strongly-built fort, garrisoned by mounted police. It stands close to a large Cree reserve, and the prairie around it being very fertile, the population latterly had been growing rapidly. When first the disturbance broke out, it was feared that there would be trouble with the Stoney Crees in this region; for Poundmaker, a great brawling Indian chief, is always ready, like his boastful brother, Big Bear, to join in any revolt against authority, Poundmaker, for many a year, has done little save to smoke, drink tea among the squaws, and tell lies, as long as the Saskatchewan river, about all the battles he fought when he was a young man, and how terrible was his name over all the plains. Poundmaker has always been successful as a boaster, and there is hardly a squaw on the whole reserve who does not think him to be one of the most illustrious and mighty men alive. Therefore he has never sued in vain for the hand of a pretty maiden without success; and he has now no fewer than a score of wives, whom he is not able to support, and who are therefore compelled to go on their bare brown feet among the marshes in the summer, killing frogs and muskrats. The lazy rascal never works, but sits at home drinking strong tea, smoking and telling lies, while his wives, young ones and old ones, and his brawling papooses go abroad looking for something to eat.

Now besides Poundmaker, there were among those Stoney Crees two other mischief-loving half-and-half Chiefs. One delighted in the name of Lucky Man, and the other of Little Pine. These two vagabonds leagued themselves with Poundmaker, when the first tidings of the the outbreak reached them, and painting their faces, went abroad among the young men, inciting them to revolt. They reminded them, that if they arose they would have plenty of big feasts, for the prairie was full of the white men's cattle. And Little Pine glanced with snaky eyes toward the town of Battleford.

"May be by-em-by, get fine things out of stores. Go in and frighten away 'em people, then take heaps o' nice things; get squaws, may be, to help 'em to carry 'em away." This was just the sort of incentive that the young men wanted; and the Indian girls screamed with delight at the prospect of red shawls, and heaps of ribbons, and boxes of brass rings, and pretty red and white stockings, and boots with buttons on them.

Presently Big Bear, and Little Pine, and Lucky Man began to get their forces in motion. Armed with bows and arrows, spears, and tomahawks, shot-guns and flint-muskets, and followed by gew-gaw-loving girls, squalling pappooses, and half starved yellow dogs, the Crees, with the three beauties just mentioned at their head, marched toward the town. The people, apprised of the intended attack, had fled to the police barracks; so that when the savages entered the town, the streets were deserted. Then commenced the work of pillage. According to a correspondent of the Montreal Star, "house after house was visited in quick succession, the squaws loudly acclaiming and shouting as the bucks smashed in the doors with axes. Firearms were the first things sought for by the braves, while the females ransacked each dwelling from top to bottom, in search of such articles as delighted the feminine eye, Soon the hitherto quiet and peaceful town of Battleford was transformed into a veritable place of destruction. Torn carpets, chairs, bedsteads and empty trunks were thrown into the streets, which were thronged by at least 500 Indians, who, made hideous with war paint, shouted and discharged their rifles simultaneously, creating a perfect pandemonium. When the pillagers had accomplished their work, they commenced the attack on the barracks, but were repulsed with a trifling loss. Some young bucks got rolls of carpet, which they extended along the street, and then mounting their ponies rode up and down over the aesthetic patterns. The squaws got fineries enough to deck themselves in for the next year; and the amount of brass rings that they carried away was enough to make glad the heart of all Indian-dom. After having surfeited themselves with destruction, they returned, each one laden to his and her utmost capacity with booty. Several places were gutted and demolished; in other cases property was destroyed, and some establishments were set on fire."

All this while Major Morris and his police, and nearly two hundred able bodied men, with 200 rifles and plenty of ammunition were cooped up in the Fort, peeping out at the squaws pillaging the town. It seems a little illogical that we should call out our young men from Halifax, from Quebec, from Montreal, from Kingston, from Ottawa, and from the other cities that put forces into the field, to go out into the far wilderness to protect property, when able-bodied men with arms in their hands stood by and watched unmoved a body of savages and squaws pillage their town, and give their property to the flames. It was to relieve this town that Colonel Otter made the brilliant march, upon which writers and orators have not been able to bestow enough of eulogy.



CHAPTER XV.

After the defeat of the police and civilians at Duck Lake, Riel and Dumont felt thoroughly confident of being able to deal with the forces which they were apprised the Canadian Government would send into the field against them. They held many long consultations together, and in every case it was Dumont who laid down the details of the military campaign. "These Canadian soldiers," he would say, "can not fight us here. We will entrench ourselves in positions against which they may fire cannon or gatling guns in vain. They are not used to bush-fighting, and will all the time expose themselves to our bullets. Besides, distances here are deceptive; and in their confusion they will make the wildest sort of shooting." It was decided that the rebel forces should make their main stand at an advantageous position, which Dumont had accidentally observed one day when he was out elk-stalking three years ago. This place, he assured his chief seemed to be intended by nature for a post of defence. It lay a short distance from Batoche's Crossing.

"But my idea is to engage them several times with portions of my force; gradually to fall back, and then fight at my final ground the battle which shall decide who is master in these territories, the half-breeds or the Canadian volunteers."

All this while General Middleton, with his brave fellows, had been making one of the most laborious marches recorded in modern wars. Perhaps the worst portion of the march was around the dismal reaches of Lake Superior. I take an extract from correspondence to the Toronto Mail. "But the most severe trial was last night's, in a march from Red Rock to Nepigon, a distance of only seven miles across the ice, yet it took nearly five hours to do it. After leaving the cars the battalion paraded in line. A couple of camp fires served to make the darkness visible. All the men were anxious to start, and when the word was given to march, it was greeted with cheers. It was impossible to march in fours, therefore an order was given for left turn, quick march. We turned, obedient to the order, but the march was anything but quick. Then into the solemn darkness of the pines and hemlock the column slowly moved. Each side being snow four feet deep, it was almost impossible to keep the track, and a misstep buried the unfortunate individual up to his neck. Then it began raining, and for three mortal hours there was a continuous down pour. The lake was reached at last, to the extreme pleasure of the corps. The wildness of the afternoon and the rain turned the snow into slush, at every step the men sank half a foot. All attempts to preserve distance were soon abandoned by the men, who clasped hands to prevent falling. The officers struggled on, arms linked, for the same purpose. Now and then men would drop in the ranks, the fact only being discovered by those in the rear stumbling over them. Some actually fell asleep as they marched. One brave fellow had plodded on without a murmur for three days. He had been suffering, but through the fear of being left behind in the hospital refrained from making his case known. He tramped half-way across last night's march reeling like a drunken man, but nature gave out at last, and with a groan he fell on the snow. There he lay, the pitiless rain beating on a boyish upturned face, until a passing sleigh stopped behind him. The driver, flashing his lantern in the upturned face, said he was dead. 'Not yet, old man,' was the reply of the youth, as he opened his eyes. 'I'm not even a candidate for the hospital yet.'"

The following description of the Great Salt Plains, as given by a Globe correspondent, is also worth reproducing: "The Great Salt Plains open out like broad, dreary marsh or arm of the sea, from which the tide has gone out. For about thirty-five miles the trail stretches in a north-westerly course across this dismal expanse, and away to the south-west, as far as the eye can reach, nothing save marsh grass, flags, bullrushes, and occasionally clumps of marsh willows can be seen. North-east of the trail scattering bluffs of stunted grey willows cluster along the horizon, and at one point along the trail, about midway of the plain, is found a small, solitary clump of stoneberry bushes, not more than thirty yards long, five or six feet in width, and only three or four feet high." The objective point of Major-General Middleton's march was Batoche's Crossing, where Riel had several large pits sunk, and fortifications thrown up, for a grand and final encounter with our troops. The line of march lay sometimes along the Saskatchewan's banks, but more frequently through the open prairie. The position of the rebels prior to the battle was this: Dumont, with 250 half-breeds and Indians, had been retreating slowly before General Middleton's right column on the east bank of the river, their scouts keeping them informed of the General's movements. Dumont appears to have thought of waiting for the troops to attack him on Thursday night; at least that is the belief of the scouts, who saw some of his mounted men signalling to him all afternoon on Thursday. However that may be, he lay waiting for our men at the edge of a big coulee near Fish Creek, early on Friday morning, his forces being snugly stowed away behind boulders, or concealed in the dense everglades of hazel, birch, and poplar. From day to day, almost from hour to hour, this veteran buffalo hunter had learned every tidings of the General's troops that keen observation made from clumps of bush along the prairie could give him. So when he learnt that the General himself, with his officers, were near at hand, his eyes fairly gleamed with enthusiasm.