CHAPTER VII.
A FIGHT; A CAPTURE; AND THE GUARDIAN SWAN.
ANNETTE with a tear in the corner of each eye, and Julie at herside, rode on till the two came within sight of the shining waters ofthe indolent Saskatchewan. As they rode leisurely along its banks,Annette, now sighing and now Julie, they heard the trample of hoofs,and turning saw approaching an Indian chief, well mounted.
"Ah, your chef, ma petite," Annette said, looking at Julie.
But Julie was well aware who the fast riding stranger was; and shewas covered with the most becoming of blushes when her lover drewrein beside them.
"No time; Indians in pursuit of you. I said I would come ahead ofbraves to keep watch upon your movements. Ride to the south, andunless you find good bluffs to the east, don't rest till you reachSouris." And he was about to go; but Julie, who had quietly managedto so work her left heel as to make her horse perform a right passtill its side touched that of the chief's pony, turned towards him,her face having the expression of a large note of interrogation,which if put in words would say, Are you going away without givingyour Julie a kiss? while her lips would remind you of the half-openedrose that awaits the hovering shower.
The chief may have interpreted the mute and delicious appeal, but hewas too full of alarm to accept the invitation, even though he couldhave conquered his sense of delicacy enough to do it before Annette.
"There now, I must be away, he said; and you must be off too." Julieput down her head till her chin touched her bosom; but she turned herdusky eyes up towards her lover with irresistible effect, as she said,
"Won't you before you go? Ma maitresse will not mind." It is not inthe nature of man, even before the cannon's mouth, to resist such anappeal as there was upon the half-pouting, half-yearning lips of thatMetis girl. He stooped suddenly, kissed her once, twice, thrice, andthen was away.
Annette and Julie at the same moment turned their horses, and rodeat a swift pace along the Saskatchewan; but they had barely startedwhen a shower of fierce yells came to them, and turning in theirsaddles they saw a band of painted savages not more than five hundredpaces distant, mounted on fleet ponies, and making for them at highspeed. As for Julie's chief there was nothing to be seen of him.
"Where can the chief have gone, ma maitresse? Will the braves notknow that he has played them false? Oh it was so selfish not to thinkof him;" and she turned again in her saddle, and once more scannedthe plains for sight of her lover.
"Julie need not fear for the chief. He is very likely in thatcottonwood bluff near where we parted."
"He could hide safely there, think you mademoiselle?" and she gaveher reins a joyous fling. Then in an altered tone, "But he must thinkme indifferent, that I did not ask him how he was to conceal from thebraves knowledge of what he had done."
"There is not much fear that he will think petite indifferent,"Annette replied in a playful tone. "A sweet girl that asks a lover tokiss her is not _indifferent_."
"Oh, there now, mademoiselle; please don't! Oh, it was such adreadful thing for me to do. Perhaps he will not like me for it;" andthis wretched darling was the colour of a new-blown poppy.
"Why, Julie, they are closing upon us," Annette exclaimed, as sheturned to look at the pursuers. "Their ponies are fresh, and ourhorses cannot keep up a long run, I fear. Spur on, Julie," and thegirls put their horses at the top of their speed.
"There, we are holding our distance now Julie; and I think gaining alittle," she added after a few moments. "See, some of their poniesare falling out of the chase," and a glance revealed four savages nowseveral hundred yards in advance of the main body which wereevidently unwilling to join further in the pursuit.
"These four Julie, must in the end overtake us. Note their lithe,large ponies, and what a buoyant spring they have."
"How soon, mademoiselle, will they catch us? and what will we dothen?"
"You must not ask two questions at once, Julie. I mean, you must notget frightened. As to the first question,"--the sentences were nowand again broken by the swift galloping--"they will catch us probablyin half an hour."
"Oh, goodness," Julie said.
"As to the second, we must fight them."
"Mon Dieu, they will kill us mademoiselle."
"Perhaps; but they will have to try hard. See yon valley with thetangles of bush?"
"Oui, mademoiselle."
"I know that valley. Was there once with mon pere. Unless they keepdirectly upon our trait, I shall lead them into a pretty mess."Altering her course, suddenly, for a bluff intervened and hid themovements of the girls from the savages, Annette followed by Juliemade rapidly for the bottom of the valley, crossing through a belt ofstraggling cedar and larches, and then held her way along the skirtof the opposite ridge.
Faint, far-off yells told the girls that they had been againdiscovered, but they had the consolation of knowing that theirpursuers must have lost almost a quarter of a mile. But the best partof the matter was that, as Annette had expected and planned, theIndians descended into the valley at a point much higher than thatchosen by the pursued. They knew not of the stretch of quaking,treacherous bog, with its population of designing beaver; indeed,they would be certain to be lured by the bright, glittering green ofthe liverwort that clad the level where the ground was mostunsubstantial.
Although I am not certain as to the prevalence of this weed in theswampy places of the North-West, I can affirm that I have scarcelyever seen a very dangerous quagmire that has not been covered withthis exquisite little plant; and if I could credit the stories of thenursery, I would be able to believe that those malignant fairies wholive about dangerous springs and shaking swamps, cover the groundwith these dainty sprays of green to lure men to their destruction.Perhaps the fairies were as interested in the fortunes of Annette andJulie as, at my heart, I am; and that they decked this swamp in itscover of glistering green to hide the death beneath.
Well, whether the fairies did this thing or not, the savages weretaking such a course that, in order to regain the trail of thefugitives, they must cross some portion of the treacherous bog.Annette's eye was upon their movements now.
"Pull rein, Julie;" and both brought their horses to a standstill.
"Well, ma maitresse, what now?" and the pet's hands trembled, andthe roses were out of her cheek.
"See; they near the swamp, and will be able, after a struggle, toget through it. Now, Julie, I wish to ride down when they get fairlyin the toils; but I would prefer that you should go in the directionwe were pursuing. If everything is right, I shall soon overtake you."
"Oh, I go with ma chere maitresse, to do whatever she does."
"Brava, Julie; I do not think we have much to fear. Ha, they are inthe toils. In fifteen minutes they will be out. Let us away." Whileshe guided her horse with her bridle hand, Julie perceived herunbutton her holster pipe, and seize and cock a Colt's revolver.
"I have one, too," muttered Julie; "so I guess I'll do the samething." Not a bit of cowardice did the sweet exhibit now.
They were now within a hundred paces of that portion of the swampwherein the braves were tangled. And if ever savages, or anythingelse, were in a mess, these painted warriors now were. They hadreached the centre of the bog, and were floundering in it up to theirhorses' bellies. Their excitement was so intense that they had eyesfor no other place than the spot where their horses floundered andwrithed; and did not notice the approach of the fugitives. Nay, thetwo had reached the very edge of the quagmire before the Indiansnoticed the Cree boys. The yell that then went up from their throatswas most comical.
Annette's arm was extended, and her revolver was pointed at thenearest savage; seeing which, Julie drew hers, and covered the nextbrave. But before she had the lid over her left eye, Annette hadfired, and fired to effect, for the brave had gone over upon hisback, and sprawled and splashed among the liverwort and the bog.
Julie next fired, and when she saw, as the result of her shot, thearm of the savage hang useless at his side, she cried--
/>
"Bon, bon!" and cocked her pistol again.
"We must wing them, Julie," Annette said, who had her arm extendedonce again. "I don't like to kill the wretches." Then came a voicecrying from the swamp, in dismal Cree--
"Don't fire any more; we won't follow the little scouts. We swear itby the Sun, and by the God of Thunder;" and laying his hand upon hishatchet, the terrified wretch faced the Sun and swore the oath: thenturning towards the clouds wherein the Thunder God resides, herepeated his avowal with the same forms and solemnity of gesture.Still Annette kept her arm extended.
"The braves talk with forked tongues, and we do not believe them,"she replied, in the Cree language.
"But we have sworn it," the miserable savage replied, in a dolefulvoice.
"False men, swearing by false gods!" Annette replied. "No; we willnot trust them. But let the braves listen. We do not want to killthem, and have decided to wing them instead."
"Oh, oh!" groaned the poor red-skins.
"There is no time to lose; the braves must not hide behind theirponies in that way, or we shall be obliged to fire at their bodiesand kill them. They must come out so that we can shoot them in thelegs."
The reader who has reached this point will likely say, "Well, Mr.Author, you are a bright individual. Why did not the Indians fire?"The truth is, they had no firearms, being supplied only with hatchetsand spears; and they were not aware that the scouts had pistols.
"But we have nothing more to fear from them, mademoiselle," Juliesaid, "wherefore need we fire at them?"
"Nor do I intend to do so, Julie; I am only bent now on sofrightening them that they will no more attempt pursuit. Moreover, Iam anxious that they shall convey tidings of our bloodthirstinessamong all the tribes; for when such rumour obtains circulation, weshall be harassed less by pursuit."
"C'est bien, ma maitresse; c'est bien."
"No more delay," shouted Annette. "Let the two braves stand up," Buteach one lay close under the lee of a struggling horse, holding theanimal fast by the head, in order to keep him sure in the swamp.
"Put you up your pistol, Julie; leave this work to me." And oncemore presenting her little round, ferocious arm, she fired, hittingone of the shielding horses upon the fore shoulder. Maddened withpain, the brute flung himself out of his predicament, and left theIndian exposed, upon which Annette immediately fired. The savageuttered a terrible cry, flung up his arms, and fell without a moveamong the liverwort.
"Did you kill him, after all, mademoiselle?"
"No, Julie; the wretch is only shamming. I fired yards away fromhim. Now let the other brave stand up, or the same fate awaits him,"the girl cried; and, presenting a picture of abject terror, theunfortunate redskin, who believed the third one shot at to be dead,drew himself out of his covert, and, putting his leg upon the horse,exposed himself to the pistol. Once more the bloodthirsty littlescout fired, and with an agonized yell, the Indian sprawled in themarsh-mire. His leg he seized just above the knee, as if the bullethad entered at that point.
"Is he hit?" whispered Julie.
"No, silly petite; he is also making believe. How well the tworascals act their part. See the one playing dead. Well, we shall waitlong enough to see his imposture exposed. He is sinking fast in thequagmire. His head is almost under now." She had scarce ceased, whenthe redskin gave a convulsive start, resembling a dying spasm, andgot once more safely above the hungry swamp.
"He will continue to have the spasms right along," Julie whispered,"while we stay here."
"Yes; but for the sake of the two wounded ones--I believe mine isbadly hurt--we shall ride away. But we must keep watch to-night,Julie. I believe these two men will follow; and if they find ussleeping, they will brain us." Then, turning to the tangle ofstruggling horses and Indians, she said in a stern voice--
"Some of you may only pretend that you have been wounded, andpurpose following us. But we shall keep strict watch, and woe untoany one of you that we catch in pistol range again. We now leaveyou." With these words the two sanguinary girls turned their horses,and briskly rode away.
"What idiots they must have been to follow without fire-arms," Juliesaid.
"Had we been armed only with hatchets, how different the case wouldhave been, enfant naif. You, child, may have considered this sheddingof blood unnecessary, and therefore cruel."
Oh, no; Julie did not think it so. La maitresse knew better than shedid.
"But there was only the choice between taking the method adopted,and openly meeting the four Indians on _terra firma_, when probably allthe savages would have been killed; or, in the hurried shooting, wemight have missed the mark, and been cloven or speared."
"Where shall my mistress camp to-night?"
"I know an extensive bluff, and we could penetrate it far enough tobe tolerably safe from the braves."
When the upper rim of the sun burned like a semi-circlet of yellow,quivering flame, above the far flat prairie, the girls turned theirhorses towards a stretch of sombre wood that stood like a vast andsolemn congregation of cloaked men upon the level.
It was not considered prudent that night to kindle a fire; for onewandering spark might prove a signal to the foe. So they ate theirmeal, and Julie rolled herself up in her blanket, while Annetteseated herself outside of the tent to keep vigil during the firstwatch.
"My mistress must not let me sleep too long; she ought not to sit upat all. What did I come for--if--not--to--to--." Here the tired,drowsy pet stopped, for she was asleep.
Annette sat upon her blanket, and heard no sound save the breakingof the grass and the grinding of the horses' teeth, as the hungrybeasts fed. Her heart was not in the wood; it was away with herlover, and once more her blood tingled, and a delicious sensationmade her heart warm as the words which he spoke when they rodetogether passed through her brain.
"Oh, what nice verses he made about my eyes and ears, and my skin.Ah, if he were only playing with me." An arrow now quivered for amoment in her heart. "But no; he has the two ways--he can be playful,and say all manner of teazing things; but, oh, he can be sincere. Henever could have spoken in such a tone, with such a light in hiseyes, with such an expression in his face, if all had not come fromthe bottom of his heart. And he will take me away, away out to thefar east, where white men dwell, and put into some great mansion,and make me its mistress. Oh, it will be all so sweet. But thedearest part of all is that he will love me, and me alone. How proudI shall be that no other girl can say, that his heart is hers.
"Ah, Annette, just for your sweet sake, I trust that the future overwhich your heart now gloats will fit itself to such a dream. I think,somehow, that it will; for he seems true, and, darling, you areworthy. But you know it does not always happen in the way that youhave fashioned it in your dear head. Some other girl _does_sometimes come with sly, soft feet and steal away hearts fromtrusting and adoring wives, and they have no remorse either in doingthe cruel deed. Indeed, believe me, I have known them in their heartto glory that they had done this thing. You will, therefore, have totake your chance."
While Annette was in the midst of her reverie, her round dimpledcheek resting on her hands, one of the horses tossed his head andwhinnied. "Julie, awake," she cried, quickly touching the sleepinggirl; and then seizing her pistol took position behind a tree,whispering Julie to join her there. And as that frightened maidenhurried out from her warm nest, a voice came through the poplarssaying,
"Fear not, Little Poplar comes."
"It is _his_ voice, Mademoiselle," and immediately the sleep flew out ofJulie's eyes, and left them luminous as the stars shining beyond thetree-tops.
"The chief is welcome," Annette replied; and Julie was upon her feetmaking a little voyage now in this direction, and now in that, in theendeavour to find him. All the while she kept saying, "This way! thisway!" but in a tone so low that he could not have heard her at adistance of ten lengths of this small maiden. At last his tall,straight figure, resembling in very truth a little poplar, was seenmoving towards the tent; and with
a shy run Julie was at his side.
"I followed the four braves who were bent on your capture, and sawthe affair in the swamp. When you rode away, one whom I supposeddead, arose and joined with another whose leg I had thought wasbroken in getting out the horses. One brave was really dead, and hehas by this time sunk in the bog. A fourth had a broken arm, and hewent away with the other two. They will not pursue again, so you maysleep in peace till the rise of sun. I shall put my blanket here.Should one approach, the ears of Little Poplar are as keen while thespirit of sleep hovers over him as while he is awake."
Julie's dreams were very happy that night.
On the morrow Little Poplar informed them that his heart was not nowas much with the white people as it had been some little time ago. Hewas aware that the braves were for the most part unreasonable, andthat they were easily led into wrong as well as to right doing.
"They have, I admit, committed some excesses; but it never can beforgotten that strangers have taken possession of their huntinggrounds, and that, if they have no substitute to offer, the redchildren of the plains must die. My tongue could not tell,mademoiselle, nor your brain conceive, the sufferings that I haveseen among our people in the long bitter winters, with only the snowfor wrappers, and pieces of dried skins for food. Will the white mandie of hunger while food is within his reach? No, he will beg itfirst, and then he will take by violence; but I have seen the youngmaiden and the withered crone gasp their last breath away upon thesnow, while ranches teeming with cattle lay not an hour's march away.
"If an Indian, with a wife, and a lodge full of children dying on abitter winter's day of hunger, turn a calf from some nigh herd ofwhite man's cattle, alarming tidings fly to the east, and white menand women learn, in their sumptuous houses, that the Indians donaught but plunder. But they would have no need, I repeat, to layhands upon the ranchers' cattle if the white man had not come andstripped them of their boundless heritage, and put them uponreservations where a buffalo may never come. [Footnote: The words inthe mouth of this chief are not exaggerations, and it is God's owntruth that during late winters dozen after dozen of Indians, men andwomen and children, perished in the snow after they had devoured theskins that covered them. Yet these poor people are said to be under"the paternal care of Government." Alas, our public men are onlyconcerned in playing their wretched political game, and they sitintriguing, while the helpless creatures committed to their careperish like dogs, of hunger, in their lodges.--E.C.]
"And some of the soldiers who have come here from the east are morebent on earning reputation than on making peace. Some of theirleaders do not want the cheap glory of 'killing a lot of Indians;'and I have with my own ears heard one of the Ontario magistrates,Col. Denison, declare that he did next come here to kill, but toprevent killing. If military affairs were now to be given into thehands of some men like him it would prove better for all concerned.
"But there is another officer, Major Beaver, who has made amazingmarches; his men, in fact, have travelled like March hares. But giveme a bluff, and fifty braves, and not one of all his rash and rushingfollowers will get back again to Ontario to boast of their deeds ofdaring.
"Some of our men have been guilty of excesses, but Government gavethem its solemn pledge that if they returned to their reserves noharm should come to them. All of my braves have gone back, because Igave them the assurance that some of the officers gave to me. Yet, ifI mistake not, Major Beaver is at this moment planning an attack uponus. His young men want to kill a few Indians, provided the thing canbe done without any risk; and then they will be described as greatheroes in the newspapers. They would fare very badly if they had toreturn without having 'a brush,' as the more war-like of them haveput it, in the hearing of some of my friends."
"Yes, mon chef," Annette replied, "but you say that Colonel Denisonand others advocate a healing of the present sores, and pacificmeasures. Then there are others who have always sympathized with theIndian, like Mr. Mair. Mon pere tells me that he has been for sometime engaged on a beautiful poem, intended to show the injustice thathas been heaped upon the children of the plains. With good counselslike these, surely no outrage will be done unto your people."
"And now, where do the two brave scouts purpose going?" the chiefenquired, as they came in sight of a small settlement nestling aroundthe edge of a coil in the Saskatchewan.
Annette was going to see her aunt, and Julie was coming with her.They would remain there for a day or two to rest, and then they wouldgo wherever their services were needed most.
"Oh! not to mademoiselle's aunt's. Le grand chef and his followershave twice been there looking for the scouts, and he has spies amongthe neutral braves who would speedily bring him the news of yourarrival."
"Then, what would the chief advise? Our hampers are exhausted now,and we must replenish them."
The chief would go after the gopher had sought his burrow, and fetchall that the maidens needed. Beyond a wooded knoll, plain to theview, was a lake, and in the wood skirting the water would be asuitable camping ground. The chief advised the maidens to ridethither, as they must now be tired and hungry; he would fetch themthe provisions and other things needed when the stars came out.Annette then scribbled a note to her aunt, and mentioned those littlethings that she needed. She would some day show her gratitude to satante for her kindness, and "made" her love and duties as girls ofher race do with such grace. And the chief was away.
"Is Julie very tired?"
"Pas beaucoup, mademoiselle. If you want not to pitch tent now, Ishould be well able to ride for a couple of hours yet."
"I want to hear what tidings there may be of Captain Stephens,Julie," and her voice trembled a little. "I do not think that thebraves who go in and out of the village can all be hostile. Those whoare up to mischief have their paint on."
Turning their horses towards the village, they perceived two bravesriding towards them.
"I think I know one of these, Julie. Is not the taller one he whobrought us the proclamation of le grand chef?"
"Oh, yes; the very one. How quick ma maitresse is in rememberingpersons." The Indian rode rapidly towards the two little scouts, andas he drew near he raised his hand.
"It is not safe down here," he said, in Cree, "for the scouts. Arunner from the Stonies saw you both, and Little Poplar with you,this morning, and swiftly carried the news. It is likely that legrand chef knows of it before this. Little Poplar, who is nowdisguised as a medicine man, is yonder in the valley, and he chargedme to come and warn the two scouts, his friends, to follow out theinstructions that he gave them without any delay. He has got sometidings, too, about Stephens, le capitaine. Not good tidings, Ithink; a brave saw several of le chef's men steal after him down theValley of the Snakes."
A short cry escaped from Annette's lips, and the blood shrunkchilled to her heart.
"Are there any tidings of a capture?"
"No; perhaps le capitaine escaped. Upon clear ground the white men'shorses could easily outdistance the braves, who, it is said, were notmounted."
Unsatisfactory as this intelligence was, it left room to hope. Butthe beauty of the silvery lake, with its fringe of berried bushes;the scolding of the kingfisher as he gadded from one riven tree toanother; the goblin laughter [Footnote: I borrow this most expressivephrase from my friend, Prof. Roberts, as vividly descriptive of thecry of the loon. John Burroughs applies the epithet "whinny," whichis good; but it misses the sense of supernatural terror with which,to me, the cry of this bird in the moonlight is always associated.]of the stately loon, as he held his way across the wide stretch ofshining, richly tinted water, might all as well have never been; forAnnette saw them not. Julie was busy trying to cheer her.
"Be not down at heart, sweet my mistress. These territories are nowinvested by numerous soldiers from the East, and tidings of thiscapture, if such there has been, would speedily reach them. Throwaway your care, and rest to-night. With the sun we shall rise to-morrow,ourselves restored, our horses fresh, and ascertain the facts.Ins
pector Dicken will know; and him we can reach in a two hours'ride."
"Sweet girl, in the hour of pain you always can give me consolation.Indians have also skulked after us; and it may be that the braveswere only watching whither Captain Stephens went."
"My view precisely, mademoiselle; but we shall talk no more about itnow. Sit beside me here upon the bank, and look at the peace and thebeauty of all this scene." Under the shadow of the bank, with itsmatted growth of trees, the water was a pure myrtle green; midway inthe expanse it was purple, and beyond, in the last faint light of thesun, it was an exquisite violet. The sand at their feet alternated inveins of umber brown, and ashes of roses; while the vermillion of therowan berries made a vivid and gorgeous contrast to the glaucousgreen of the leafage.
Little ripples came upon the bright, pink sand that fringed theunvarying tide-mark.
"What causes the ripple now, Julie, when no breath of wind is in theheavens, and neither oar nor paddle is on the lake?"
"Stay; I thought that I heard it a moment ago! Yes, I hear it again.Hear you not the note of some waterfowl?"
Yes, Annette did hear it; but she could not say from what kind ofbird the singing came.
"Well, my sweet mistress, the ripples which you now see swinging inupon the sand come from the same bird whose song you hear. The birditself is the swan, made sacred to love."
"Oh, I remember something of the legend, Julie. Repeat it to me,s'il vous plait."
"Well; there was once a beautiful maiden of the plains, whom many ofthe bravest and most noble of the chiefs adored; but she disdainedtheir wooing, for she loved with a passion that absorbed her soul andbody a young man with hair like the corn leaves when, after rain, thesunlight is shot through the stalks. He stayed some days in the lodgeof the chief, her father; and while his heart was yet full of lovefor the peach-skinned, star-eyed maiden, he was obliged to go awaywith his white brethren, who had come from over seas to trace thesource and flow of some of our mighty rivers. The parting of thelovers was like the breaking of heart-strings. The maiden pined, andthrough all the summer sat among the flowers sighing for her darlingwith the amber-tinted hair. Her sleep refreshed her not, for throughthe night she dreamt of naught but the parting, and of the sorrow inhis sky-blue eyes. In the day, her eyes were ever looking wistfullyalong the trail by which he had come, or gazing, with a woe pastskill to describe, out along the stretch by which he had gone fromher sight. Late in the autumn, when the petals of the rose and thedaisy began to fall, and summer birds prepared for the flight to thesouth, the Great Spirit came softly down from a cumulus cloud andstood beside the maiden, as she sat upon the fading prairie. He toldher of a glorious land out in the heavens, where spring endured forever, and true lovers were joined to have no more parting; and whenshe looked yearningly towards the region at which he pointed, heasked her if she would go thither with him. With joy unutterable sheconsented, and giving her hand into his, the two rose in the air anddisappeared through a piled mass of rosy cloud. When she reachedparadise, knowledge was given to her of the loves of maidens upon theearth, and reflecting how bitter her lot had been, she besought theGod of Thunder, and the Ruler of the Spheres, to permit her to pass aportion of each year upon the earth, in order to watch over andconsole love-sick virgins who were separated from their betrothed. Toher request the god consented, giving to the maiden the figure of aswan. Since that time she visits the earth a short time aftermidsummer day; and you can hear her singing upon our great inlandwaters during the night, at any place between the lonesome stretchesof the far north to the great southern lakes, from the middle ofsummer till the first golden gleam comes in the maple leaf. Then shearises, and the hunter marvels at the beautiful bird with the whitepinions which flies up into the heavens, and passes beyond thehighest clouds."
"Harken now, mademoiselle; it sings again." And lo! from over thehushed face of the water came the notes of the guardian maiden.
"The song is not plaintive and sorrow-laden, as I have been told theswan's song is, Julie."
"No; the singing of the swan soothes and consoles. Hark again to it."
"Oh, it is divine, Julie, and creeps into my heart, filling me withcomfort and exquisite peace."
"I doubt not, mademoiselle, that the maiden came to this lake tocheer your sorrowful spirit, and to give you surety that neither younor your lover stand in danger."
"Ah, Julie; it is so sweet to think this. And this it is which thesong tells me through the delightful quiet of my heart."
"Yes, my sweet mistress; and I had forgotten the most delicioustidings in the legend. The maiden's singing is always a guaranteethat no harm can come to either of the lovers." And while Annette wasfeasting her spirit upon this new joy, the song of the swan, whichfor a minute or two had been hushed, suddenly was resumed close by;and looking, the two maidens saw a bird, beautiful, and endowed withgrace of motion past description, move by, sending divers shiningrings of water before it. Then a sudden darkness fell and hid thebird; but the song came at frequent intervals to the girls from themidst of the lake, and whenever a shadow passed over Annette'sspirit, the singing was resumed. [Footnote: There is a legend amongsome of the Indian tribes of the North-West territories that the swanis a metamorphosed love-sick maiden, whose function and prerogative isto watch over all young virgins who have given away their hearts. Itis a fact that the Indian hunters long refrained from killing thewhite swan in deference to a belief in this legend.--E.C.]
There was now a stir among the brambles near the girl's tent, and toAnnette's "Qui vive?" came the response--
"It is Little Poplar."
"Oh, I am so glad that he is come," Julie said, and the eyes of thisminx grew instantly larger, and ten times more bright.
Some of my fair readers may now desire to know "exactly" what thisIndian chief, who is so conspicuous in the story "looked like." Well,he was just such a man as always finds an easy access to a woman'sheart. It is true that he was "a savage," but if merit there be in"blood,"--and for my own part I would not have a dog unless I wassure about his pedigree,--he was descended of a long and illustriousline of chiefs, whose ancestors, mayhap, were foremost in thatsplendid civilization, that has left us an art mighty and full ofwonders, centuries before the destroying sails of Cortez were spreadupon the deep.
He was tall, and straight, and lithe; and he had a certainindefinable grace of gesture and address which fits itself only toone who, by descent and breeding, has been "to the manner born." Hishair was dark, and almost silky fine; and the poise of his head wouldbe a theme for the pen or the pencil of Rossetti. His eye was dark asnight, but it revealed an immense range of expression; a capacity forgreat tenderness, and passion without bound. His nose approximatedthe aquiline type; his firm mouth was a bow of Cupid, and his skinwas a light nut-brown. His dress was like that of a cow-boy, and wasdevoid of barbaric gauds. I suppose that is enough to say about him.[Footnote: I may say that when afterwards, through the fortunes ofwar, this same chief was brought as a prisoner before a certainpaunchy officer, the attempt of the latter to show his dignity was aclumsy failure. The proud and splendid chief, with arms folded acrosshis breast, and head slightly bowed, looked singularly out of placearraigned before the stumpy judge.--E. C.]
"And now," said the chief, putting down the hamper, "We shall seewhat your aunt has sent." Nimble fingers soon opened it, and found,besides le cafe and le the, as they were labelled, several petitspains--"Rolls!" cried Julie, smacking her hungry lips--a bunch ofsaucisses; of le fromage about a pound, and of la patisserie enoughfor a meal for the hungry girls.
"There now, Julie, we have coffee, and tea, and rolls, and sausage;a pound of cheese, fully, and pie enough for one delicious meal." Hersweet mouth was "watering," and when she came to un gigot de mouton,she cried, "What a sweet aunt she is! But when can we eat this wholeleg of mutton?"
Oh, Julie was very hungry, and so was her chief; and Annette herselfwas like a bear. After all, very little would be left for the prairiedog.
"Does
the chief think that Captain Stephens was in danger of captureby those Indians?" Annette ventured to ask. This is the question thathad been upon her lips since the arrival of the chief, but she couldnot summon courage enough to ask it sooner.
"When last seen, mademoiselle, le capitaine and his wounded friendwere moving slowly through the swampy bottom of the ravine; and manybraves, with arms in their hands, were in close pursuit. But lecapitaine may have gone upon the high ground and escaped; he easilycould have done so."
There was not much consolation in this for Annette's forebodingheart; but as she lay down in her blanket, with Julie at her side,there came once more, through the stillness, from the bosom of thelake, the soothing song of the swan.
"Do you hear it again, Julie?"
Yes, Julie heard it: It was, without any doubt, singing to quiet thegroundless apprehensions of sa maitresse. Then both the maidensslept. And whenever through the night Annette awoke, and began tothink of her lover's peril and probable captivity, the soft, scentednight wind bore to her ears a note or two of reassuring music fromthe throat of the maiden-bird.
Before the sun had cleared the horizon on the morrow the breakfastwas ended, the tent rolled; and the saddles were upon the horses.Then the trio set out at a brisk trot; the chief to join his peopleupon their reserve, the girls to find Inspector Dicken at Battleford.
I do not like "breaking threads," but it is necessary that, for thepresent, I should allow my two Metis maidens to journey without mycompany, while I go back to where I left Captain Stephens in thegulch.
The route of the two horsemen lay through alternating swamp andgrassland, and as the path was not much traversed, bush tangles hereand there almost blocked the way. They had no misgiving as they rode,and expected to be soon with Inspector Dicken. The lower end of thegulch was not so cheerful as that portion where they had entered. Thetrees grew thicker; swamps composed the greater portion of theground, and the long groping shores of the trees might be traced farthrough the black bog, till they found anchoring place at the skirtof the upland. At last they reached a point where the swamp extendedacross the entire valley; and further progress by the level wasimpossible.
"I fear, Phillips, that we shall be obliged to try the edge of theupland; but how our horses can make their way through the dense bushI am unable to see. Nevertheless, we must try it." As they turnedtheir horses' heads, a din of yells burst upon their ears from thebushes round about; and immediately a score of savages with tomahawksuplift, headed by a Metis with snaky eyes, surrounded them.
"Surrender, messieurs; resistance is useless."
Stephens looked about him, and at one glance mastered the situation.Phillips was too ill of his wounds to be able to use his right arm,even though a dash down the trail by which they had come werepracticable. For himself, he had a pair of Colt's revolvers; butbefore he could fire twice the savages would be enabled to brain himwith their tomahawks.
"I surrender," he said, nodding to the hateful boisbrule; and thedetestable eyes of the man gleamed as he said--
"Bind the prisoners."
Annette, the Metis Spy: A Heroine of the N.W. Rebellion Page 7
