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The Story of Louis Riel: The Rebel Chief

by J. E. Collins · English · Gutenberg #10399 · 368,924 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: The Story of Louis Riel: The Rebel Chief

Author: J. E. Collins


        
Release date: December 7, 2003 [eBook #10399]
                Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10399

Credits: This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF LOUIS RIEL: THE REBEL CHIEF ***

This etext was produced by Gardner Buchanan.






The Story of Louis Riel
The Rebel Chief


by Joseph Edmond Collins

Toronto, 1885




CHAPTER I.

Along the banks of the Red River, over those fruitful
plains brightened with wild flowers in summer, and swept
with fierce storms in the winter-time, is written the
life story of Louis Riel. Chance was not blind when she
gave as a field to this man's ambition the plains whereon
vengeful Chippewas and ferocious Sioux had waged their
battles for so many centuries; a country dyed so often
with blood that at last Red River came to be its name.
But while our task is to present the career of this
apostle of insurrection and unrest; stirred as we may be
to feelings of horror for the misery, the tumult, the
terror and the blood of which he has been the author, we
must not neglect to do him, even him, the justice which
is his right.

He is not, as so many suppose, a half-breed, moved by
the vengeful, irresponsible, savage blood in his veins.
Mr. Edward Jack, [Footnote: I cannot make out what Mr.
Jack's views are respecting Riel. When I asked him, he
simply turned his face toward the sky and made some remark
about the weather, I know that he has strong French
proclivities, though the blood of a Scottish bailie is
in his veins.] of New Brunswick, who is well informed on
all Canadian matters, hands me some passages which he
has translated from M. Tasse's book on Canadians in the
North West; and from these I learn that Riel's father,
whose name also was Louis, was born at the island of
La Crosse, in the North-West Territories. This parent was
the son of Jean Baptiste Riel, who was a French Canadian
and a native of Berthier (_en haut_). His mother, that
is the rebel's grandmother, was a Franco-Montagnaise
Metis. From this it will be seen that instead of being
a "half breed," Louis Riel is only one-eighth Indian, or
is, if we might use the phrase employed in describing a
mixture of Ethiopian and Caucasian blood, an Octoroon.

Nay, more than this, we have it shown that our rebel can
lay claim to no small share of respectability, as that
word goes. During the summer of 1822, Riel's father, then
in his fifth year, was brought to Canada by his parents,
who caused the ceremony of baptism to be performed with
much show at Berthier. In 1838 M. Riel _pere_ entered
the service of the Hudson Bay Company, and left Lower
Canada, where he had been attending school, for the
North-West. He was stationed at Rainy Lake, but did not
care for his occupation. He returned, therefore, to
civilization and entered as a novice in the community of
the Oblat Fathers, where he remained for two years. There
was a strong yearning for the free, wild life of the
boundless prairies in this man, and Red River, with its
herds of roaming buffalo, its myriads of duck, and geese
and prairie hens, began to beckon him home again. He
followed his impulse and departed; joining the Metis
hunters in their great biennial campaigns against the
herds, over the rolling prairie. Many a buffalo fell upon
the plain with Louis Riel's arrow quivering in his flank;
many a feast was held around the giant pot at which no
hunter received honours so marked as stolid male, and
olive-skinned, bright-eyed, supple female, accorded him.
Surfeited for the time of the luxury of the limitless
plain, Riel took rest; and then a girl with the lustrous
eyes of Normandy began to smile upon him, and to besiege
his heart with all her mysterious force of coquetry. He
was not proof; and the hunter soon lay entangled in the
meshes of the brown girl of the plains. In the autumn of
1843 he married her. Her name was Julie de Lagimodiere,
a daughter of Jean Baptiste de Lagimodiere.

Louis _pere_ was now engaged as a carder of wool; and
having much ability in contrivance he constructed a little
model of a carding mill which, with much enthusiasm, he
exhibited to some officers of the Hudson Bay Company.
But the Company, though having a great body, possessed
no soul, and the disappointed inventor returned to his
waiting wife with sorrow in his eyes. He next betook
himself to the cultivation of a farm upon the banks of
the little Seine; and his good, patient wife, when the
autumn came, toiled with him all day, with her sickle
among the sheaves.

Tilling the soil proved too laborious, and he determined
to erect a grist mill; but the stream that ran through
the clayey channel of the _Seine petite_ was too feeble
to turn the ponderous wheels. So he was obliged to move
twelve miles to the east, where flowed another small
stream bearing the aesthetic name "Grease River." This
was not large enough either for his purposes, so with
stupendous enterprise he cut a canal nine miles long,
and through it decoyed the waters of the little Seine
into the arms of the "Greasy" paramour. At this mill was
ground the grain that grew for many a mile around; and
in a little while Louis Riel became known as the most
enterprising and important settler in Red River. But he
was not through all his career a man of peace. The most
deadly feud had grown up through many long years between
the Hudson Bay Company and the Metis settled upon their
territory; and it is only bald justice to say that the,
reprisals of the half-breeds, the revolts, the hatred of
everything in official shape, were not altogether
undeserved. Louis Riel was at the head of many a jarring
discord. How such an unfortunate condition grew we shall
see later on, and we may also be able to determine if
there are any shoulders upon which we can lay blame for
the murder and misery that since have blighted one of
the fairest portions of Canada.

Louis Riel the elder was in due time blessed with a son,
the same about whom it is our painful duty to write this
little book. Estimating at its fullest the value of
education, the father was keenly anxious for an opportunity
to send _Louis fils_ to a school; but fortune had not
been liberal with him in later years, though the sweat
was constantly upon his brow, and his good wife's fingers
were never still. This son had unusual precocity, and
strangers who looked upon him used to say that a great
fire slumbered in his eye. He was bright, quick and
piquant; and it is said that it was impossible to know
the lad and not be pleased with his person and manners.
One important eye had observed him many a time; and this
was the great ecclesiastical dignitary of Red River,
Monseigneur Tache. He conceived a strong affection for
the lad and resolved to secure for him a sound education.
His own purse was limited, but there was a lady whom he
knew upon whose bounty he could count. I give the following
extract, which I translate from M. Tasse's book, and I
write it in italics that it may be the more clearly
impressed upon the reader's mind when he comes to peruse
the first story of blood which shall be related: _The
father's resources did not permit him to undertake the
expense of this education, but His Grace Archbishop Tache
having been struck with the intellectual precocity of
Louis, found a generous protector of proverbial munificence
for him in the person of Madame Masson, of Terrebonne._
In later years it was reserved to the same bishop to go
out as a mediator between Government and a band of rebels
which had at its head a man whose hands were reddened
with the blood of a settler. This rebel and murderer was
the same lad upon whom the bishop had lavished his
affection and his interest.

Louis, the elder, was travelling upon the plain, when he
met his son, bound for the civilized East, to enter upon
his studies. He had pride in the lad, and said to his
companions that one day he knew he would have occasion
to glory in him. They said good-bye, the father seasoning
the parting with wholesome words of advice, the son with
filial submission receiving them, and storing them away
in his heart. This was their last parting, and their last
speaking. Before the son had been long at his studies he
learned that his father was dead. His nature was deeply
affectionate, and the painful intelligence overwhelmed
him for many days. At school he was not distinguished
for brilliancy, but his tutors observed that he had solid
parts, and much intellectual subtlety. He was not a great
favourite among his class-mates generally, because his
manners were shy and reserved, and he shrank from, rather
than courted, the popularity and leadership which are
the darling aims of so many lads in their school-days.
Yet he had many friends who were warmly attached to him;
and to these he returned an equal affection. One of his
comrades was stricken down with a loathsome and fatal
malady, and all his comrades fled in fear away from his
presence. But Louis Riel, the "half-breed," as the boys
knew him, bravely went to the couch of his stricken
friend, nursing, and bestowing all his attention and
affection upon him, and offering consoling words. It is
related that when the last moments came, the sufferer
arose, and flinging his arms around Louis' neck, poured
out his thanks and besought heaven to reward him. Then
he fell backwards and died.

Frequently young Riel's school-mates would ask him, "What
do you intend doing when you leave school? Will you stay
here, or do you go out again into the wilderness among
the savages?"

His eye would lighten with indignation at hearing the
word "savages" applied to his people. "I will go out to
the Red River," he would reply, to follow in the footsteps
of my father. He has been a benefactor of our people,
and I shall seek to be their benefactor too. When I tire
of work, I can take my gun and go out for herds upon the
plains with our people, whom you call "savages." I know
not what you mean when you say "savages." We speak French
as you do; our hearts are as kind, as noble, and as true
as yours. When one of our people is in affliction the
others give him sympathy and help. We are bound together
by strong ties of fraternity; there is no jealousy among
us, no tyranny of caste, but we all live in peace and
love as the sisters and brothers in one great household.
My eye deceives me if like this live you. You are divided
into envious, brawling factions, each one of which tries
to injure, and blight the reputation of the other. If
one of you fall upon evil times he is left without the
sympathy and succour of the others. In politics and in
social grades you are divided, and in every respect you
are such that I should mourn the day when our peaceable,
simple, contented people on the banks of the Red River
should in any respect choose your civilization for their
model.

He often spoke of a burning desire which he had to be a
political as well as a social leader in the Colony of
Red River. He frequently, likewise, muttered dark threats
against the overbearing policy and dark injustice of "The
Great Monopoly," as he used to characterize the Hudson
Bay Company. Occasionally he would burst out into passionate
words like these:

"They treat us as they would blood thirsty savages upon
the plains. They spurn us with their feet as dogs, and
then they spit upon us. They mock at our customs, they
regard with contempt that which to us is sacred and above
price. They are not even deterred by the virtue of our
women. Now witness, you God who made all men, the white
man and the savage, I will, if the propitious day ever
come, strike in vengeance, and my blow will be with an
iron hand, whose one smiting shall wipe out all the
injustice and the dishonour."

Filled with these sentiments, when his school days came
to an end, he packed his portmanteaus and took his way
by stage and boat for the region that not many years
hence was to ring and shudder with his name.




CHAPTER II.

Long before the vision of a confederation of the British
Provinces entered into the brain of any man, Lord Selkirk,
coming to the wilds of North America, found a tract of
country fertile in soil, and fair to look upon. He arrived
in this unknown wilderness when it was summer, and all
the prairie extending over illimitable stretches till it
was lost in the tranquil horizon, was burning with the
blooms of a hundred varieties of flowers. Here the "tiger
rose," like some savage queen of beauty, rose to his
knees and breathed her sultry balm in his face. Aloof
stood the shy wild rose, shedding its scent with delicate
reserve; but the wild pea, and the convolvulus, and the
augur flower, and the insipid daisy, ran riot through
all the grass land, and surfeited his nostrils with their
sweets. Here and there upon the mellow level stood a
clump of poplars or white oaks, prim, like virgins without
suitors, with their robes drawn close about them; but
when over the unmeasured plain the wind blew, they bowed
their heads: as if saluting the stranger who came to
found a colony in the wilderness of which they were
sentinels. Here too, in the hush, for the first time,
the planter's ear heard a far-off, nigh indistinct, sound
of galloping thunder. He knew not what it meant, and his
followers surmised that it might be the tumult of some
distant waterfall, borne hither now because a storm was
at hand, and the denser air was a better carrier of the
sound. And while they remained wondering what it could
be, for the thunder was ever becoming louder, and,

   "Nearer clearer, deadlier than before"

Lo! out of the west came what seemed as a dim shadow
moving across the plain. With bated breath they watched
the dark mass moving along like some destroying tempest
with ten thousand devils at its core. Chained to the
ground with a terrible awe they stood fast for many
minutes till at last in the dim light, for the gloaming
had come upon the plains, they see eye-balls that blaze
like fire, heads crested with rugged, uncouth horns and
shaggy manes; and then snouts thrust down, flaring
nostrils, and rearing tails.

My God, a buffalo herd, and we'll be trampled to death,"
almost shrieked one of the Earl's followers.

"Peace! keep cool! Up, up instantly into these trees!"
and the word was obeyed as if each man was an instrument
of the leader's will. Beyond, in the south-east, a full
moon, luscious seeming as some ripened, mellow fruit,
was rising, and the yellow light was all over the plain.
Then the tremendous mass, headed by maddened bulls, with
blazing eyes and foaming nostrils, drove onward toward
the south, like an unchained hurricane. Some of the
terrified beasts ran against the trees, crushing horns
and skull, and fell prone upon the plain, to be trampled
into jelly by the hundreds of thousands in the rear. The
tree upon which the earl had taken refuge received many
a shock from a crazed bull; and it seemed to the party
from the tree-branches as if all the face of the plains
was being hurled toward the south in a condition of the
wildest turmoil. Hell itself let loose could present no
such spectacle as this myriad mass of brute life sweeping
over the lonely plain under the wan, elfin light of the
new-risen moon. Clouds of steam, wreathing itself into
spectral shapes of sullen aspect, rose from the dusky,
writhing mass, and the flaming of more than ten thousand
eyeballs in the gloom presented a picture more terrible
than ever came into the imagination of the writer of the
Inferno. The spectacle, as observed by those some twenty
feet from the ground, might be likened somewhat to a
turbulent sea when a sturdy tide sets against the storm,
and the mad waves tumble hither and thither, foiled, and
impelled, yet for all the confusion and obstruction moving
in one direction with a sweep and a force that no power
could chain. Circling among and around the strange, dusk
clouds of steam that went up from the herd were scores
of turkey buzzards, their obscene heads bent downward,
their sodden eyes gleaming with expectancy. Well they
knew that many a gorgeous feast awaited them wherever
boulder, tree, or swamp lay in the path of the mighty
herd. At last the face of the prairie had ceased its
surging; no lurid eyeball-light gleamed out of the dusk;
and the tempest of cattle had passed the _voyageurs_ and
went rolling out into the unbounded stretches of the dim,
yellow plain.

The morrow's sun revealed a strange spectacle. The great
amplitude of rich, green grasses, warmed and beautified
by the petals of flowers was as a ploughed field. The
herbage had been literally crushed into mire, and this
the innumerable hoofs had churned up with the soft, rich,
dark soil of the prairie. The leguminous odours from
decaying clover, and rank, matted masses of wild pease,
the feverish exhalations of the tiger-lily, and of the
rich blooded "buffalo lilac," together with the dank,
earthy smell from the broken sod, were disagreeable and
oppressive. Lord Selkirk's heart sank within him at seeing
the ruin.

"I fear me," he said, "to plant a colony here. A herd of
these beasts coming upon a settlement would be worse than
ten thousand spears." But some of his guides had before
seen the impetuous rushing of the herds, and they assured
him that this might not occur again in this portion of
the prairie for a quarter of a century to come.

"At any rate," they persisted, "the buffalo keeps away
from regions that send up chimney-smoke. The chief regret
by-and-by will be that the herds will not come near enough
to us." And the Earl was reassured and proceeded with
the steps preliminary to founding the colony. It need
not be said that the place we have been describing was
the prairie on the banks of the Red River.

In a little while ships bearing numbers of sturdy Scotchmen
began to cross the sea bound for this famous colony,
where the land was ready for the plough, and mighty herds
of wild cattle grazed knee-deep among gorgeous flowers
and sweet grasses. They brought few white women with
them, the larger number being young men who had bade
their "Heeland" lassies good-bye with warm kisses,
promising to come back for them when they had built
homesteads for themselves in the far away wilds of the
West.

But when Lord Selkirk planted here his sturdy Scotchmen,
wild beasts and game were not the only inhabitants of
the plains. The Crees, a well-built, active, war-loving
race, had from ages long forgotten roamed over these
interminable meadows, fishing in the streams, and hunting
buffalo. Here and there was to be found one of their
"towns," a straggling congregation of tents made of the
skins of the buffalo. Beautiful, dark-skinned girls, in
bare brown, little feet, sat through the cool of evening
in the summer days sewing beads upon the moccasins of
their lovers, while the wrinkled dame limped about,
forever quarrelling with the dogs, performing the household
duties.

But the Crees liked not the encroachment upon their
territories by these foreign men with pale faces; and
they held loud pow-wows, and brandished spears, and swept
their knives about their heads till their sheen gleamed
many miles over the prairie. Then preparing their paint
they set out to learn from the pale-faced chief what was
his justification for the invasion.

"You cannot take lands without war and conquest," were
the words of a young chief with a nose like a hawk's
beak, and an eye like the eagle's, to Lord Selkirk. "You
did not fight us; therefore you did not conquer us. How
comes it then that you have our lands?"

"Are you the owners of this territory?" calmly enquired
the nobleman.

"We are; no one else is the owner."

"But I shall shew you that from two standpoints, first
from my own, and afterwards from yours, it belongs not
to you. Firstly, it belongs to our common Sovereign, the
King of England. You belong to him; so likewise do the
buffalo that graze upon the plains, and the fishes that
swim in the rivers. Therefore our great and good Sovereign
sayeth unto me, his devoted subject, 'Go you forth into
my territories in the North of America, and select there
a colony whereon to plant any of my faithful children
who choose to go thither.' I have done so. Then, since
you hold possession of these plains only by the bounty
and sufferance of our good father the King, how can you
object to your white brethren coming when they were
permitted so to do?"

Ugh; that was only the oily-tongued talk of the pale-faces.
While seeming to speak fair, and smooth, and wise, their
tongues were as crooked as the horn of the mountain-goat.
Yet no chief could answer the Earl's contention, and they
looked from one to another with some traces of confusion
and defeat upon their faces.

"But," continued Lord Selkirk, in the same grave and firm
voice, "from your own standpoint you are not the proprietors
of this territory. The Saulteux, with whom you wage your
constant wars, have been upon these plains as long as
you. In times of peace you have intermarried with them,
and I now find in your wigwams many a squaw obtained from
among the villages of your rivals."

Ugh! They could not deny this. It was evident from their
silence and the abject way in which they glanced from
one to another that the case had gone against them.

"But there is no reason for your jealousy or your
hostility," Lord Selkirk continued; "our people come
among you, not as conquerors, but as brothers. They shall
not molest you but quietly till the fields and raise
their crops. Instead of showing unfriendliness, I think
you should take them by the hand and welcome them as
brothers." These words at last prevailed, and the Crees
put by their war paint, and came among the whites and
offered them fish and buffalo steak.

Thus was the colony founded. The grain grew well, and
there was abundance in the new settlement, save that at
intervals an army of locusts would come out of the west
and destroy every green leaf. Then the settlers' needs
were sore, and they were obliged to subsist upon roots
and what fell to them from the chase.

Many years rolled on, and the sturdy Scotch settlers had
driven their roots fast into the ground. One alone of
all the number who had kissed good-bye to his Scottish
sweetheart returned to redeem his pledge. For the rest
they soon forgot the rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes
that they had left behind them, in the pleasures of the
chase upon the plain, and the interest in their wide
acres. But these perhaps were not the only reasons why
they had forgotten their vows to the Scottish girls.
Among the Crees were many beautiful maidens, with large,
velvety eyes, black as the night when no moon is over
the prairie, and shy as a fawn's. When first the white
man came amongst them the girls were bashful; and when
he went into the Crees' tent they would shrink away hiding
their faces. But it soon became apparent that the shyness
was not indifference; indeed many a time when the Scotch
hunter passed a red man's tent he saw a pair of eyes
looking languishingly after him. Little by little the
timidity began to disappear, and sometimes the brown-skinned
girls came in numbers to the white man's dwelling, and
submitted themselves to be taught how to dance the
cotillion and the eight-hand reel. Then followed the
wooing among the flowery prairies; and the white men
began to pledge their troths to the dusky girls. Many a
brave hunter who had a score of scalps to dangle from
his belt, sought, but sought in vain, a kind glance from
some beautiful maiden of his tribe, who before the pale
faces came would have deemed great indeed the honour of
becoming the spouse of a warrior so distinguished. Jealousy
began to fill the hearts of the Crees, but the mothers
and wives, and the daughters too, were constant mediators,
and never ceased to exert themselves for peace.

"When," said they, "the white-faces first came among us,
our chiefs and our young men all cried out, 'O they deem
themselves to be a better race than we; they think their
white blood is better than our red blood. They will not
mingle with us although they will join with us in hunting
our wild meat, or eating it after it has fallen to our
arrow or spear. They will not consider one of our daughters
fit for marriage with one of them; because it would blend
their blood with our blood.' Now, O you chiefs and young
men, that which you at the first considered a hardship
if it did not come to pass, has come to pass, and yet
you complain. 'The whites are above marrying our daughters,'
you first cry; now you plan revenge because they want to
marry, and do marry them." The arguments used by the
women were too strong, and the brawny, eagle-eyed hunters
were compelled to mate themselves with the ugly girls of
the tents. It is asserted by some writers on the North-West
that the beauty observed in the Metis women in after
years was in great part to be attributed to the fact that
the English settlers took to wife only the most beautiful
of the Indian girls. Now and again too, the canny Scotch
lad, with his gun on his shoulder and his retriever at
his heel, would walk through a Saulteux settlement. The
girls here were still shyer than their Cree cousins, but
they were not a whit less lovely. They were not dumpy
like so many Indian girls, but were slight of build, and
willowy of motion. Their hair was long and black, but it
was as fine as silk, and shone like the plumage of a
blackbird. There was not that oily swarthiness in the
complexion, which makes so many Indian women hideous in
the eyes of a connoisseur of beauty; but the cheeks of
these girls were a pale olive, and sometimes, when they
were excited, a faint tinge of rose came out like the
delicate pink flush that appears in the olive-grey of
the morning. And these maidens, too, began to cast
languishing eyes upon the pale-faced stranger; and sighed
all the day while they sewed fringe upon their skirts
and beads upon their moccasins. Their affections now were
not for him who showed the largest number of wolves'
tongues or enemies' scalps, but for the gracious stranger
with his gentle manners and winning ways. They soon began
to put themselves in his way when he came to shoot chicken
or quail among the grasses; would point out to him passes
leading around the swamps, and inform him where he might
find elk or wild turkey. Then with half shy, yet half
coquettish airs, and a lurking tenderness in their great
dusk hazel eyes, they would twist a sprig off a crown of
golden rod, and with their dainty little brown fingers
pin it upon the hunter's coat. With shy curiosity they
would smoothe the cloth woven in Paisley, forming in
their minds a contrast between its elegance and that of
the coats of their own red gallants made of the rough
skin of the wolf or the bison. So it came to pass that
in due season most of the pretty girls among the Jumping
Indians had gone with triumph and great love in their
hearts from the wigwam of their tribe to be the wives of
the whites in their stately dwellings.

In this way up-grew the settlement of Red River; by such
intermarriages were the affections of the red men all
over the plains, from the cold, gloomy regions of the
North to the mellow plains of the South, won by their
pale-faced neighbours. The savages had not shut their
ears to what their women had so eloquently urged, and
they would say:

"The cause of these pale people is our cause; their
interests are our interests; they have mingled their
flesh and blood with ours; we shall be their faithful
brothers to the death." It was this fact, not the wisdom
of government Indian agents, nor the heaven-born insight
of government itself into the management of tribes that
so long preserved peace and good will throughout our
North-West Territories. It was for this reason that
enemies of government in the Republic could say after
they had revealed the corruption of Red Cloud and Black
Rock agents:

"Observe the Canadian tribes, mighty in number, and
warlike in their nature. They fight not, because they
have been managed with wisdom and humanity. There is no
corruption among the accredited officials; there is no
sinister dealing towards them by the government." We do
not charge our officials with corruption, neither do we
believe that their administration has been feeble;--on
the whole our attitude towards the Indian people has been
fair; our policy has revealed ordinary sense,--and not
much brilliancy. Probably half a dozen level-headed
wood-choppers, endowed with authority to deal with the
tribes, could have acquitted themselves as well; perhaps
they might not have done so well, and it is probable that
they might have exhibited a better showing.

It was in this settlement that in after years appeared
Louis Riel _pere_. For some generations the Hudson Bay
Company had carried on an extensive trade in peltry, and
numbers of their _employes_ were French peasants or
_coureurs de bois_. Thousands of these people were
scattered here and there over the territories; and they
began to turn loving eyes toward the rich meadows along
the banks of the Red River. Some of these had for wives
squaws whom they had wooed and won during their engagement
in the peltry trade. These finding that other whites had
taken Indian girls for brides, felt drawn towards the
new settlement by sentiments stronger than those of mere
interest. Numbers of unmarried French took up farms in
the new colony, and soon fell captive to the charms of
the Cree girls. Now and again the history of the
simple-hearted Scots was repeated; and a _coureur_ was
presently seen to bring a shy, witching Saulteux maiden
from the tents of the Jumping Indians. But the French,
it must be said, were not so _dilettante_ in their taste
for beauty as were their Scottish brethren; yet, as a
rule, their wives were the prettiest girls in the tribes
--after, of course, "braw John" had been satisfied--for
an ugly maiden was content to have an Indian for her lord;
and she tried no arts, plucked no bouquets from the
prairie flowers, beaded no moccasins, and performed no
tender little offices to catch the heart of the white man.

"Pale face gets all the pretty squaws; suppose we must
take 'em ugly ones. Ugh!" This was the speech, and the
true speech of many a chief, or lion-hearted young man
of the tribes under the new order at Red River.

This may seem hard to the poor Indian, but perhaps it
was just as well. It would have, indeed, been worse had
the handsome maiden given her hand to the dusky Red, and
afterwards, wooed by blue eyes, given her heart where
her hand could never go. And the Indian woman is no better
and no worse than her kind, no matter what the colour
be. Happier, then, is the lot of the Indian with his
homely affectionate wife, than with a bride with roses
in her cheek, and sunlight in her eye, who cannot resist
the pleading eye and the outstretched arms of one whose
wooing is unlawful, and the result of which can be nought
but wrong and misery.

The population grew and comforts increased till eighteen
or twenty thousand souls could be reckoned in the colony.
The original whites had disappeared, and no face was to
be seen but that of a Metis in any of the cosy dwellings
in the settlement. These people had not yet learnt that
amongst the whites, whose blood knew no alloy, they were
regarded as a debased sort, and unfit socially to mix
with those who had kept their race free from taint. The
female fruitage of the mixture lost nothing by acquiring
some of the Caucasian stock, but the men, in numerous
cases, seemed to be inferior for the blending. In appearance
they were inane, in speech laconic; they were shy in
manners, and reserved, to boorishness, while in intellectual
alertness they were inferior to the boisterous savage,
or the shrewd, dignified white. But the woman perpetuated
the shy, winning coyness of her red mother, and the arts,
and somewhat of the refinements of her white father. The
eye was not so dusk; it gleamed more: as if the ray from
a star had been shot through it. There was the same olive
cheek; but it was not so tawny, for the dawn of the white
blood had appeared in it. She gained in symmetry too,
being taller than her red mother, while she preserved
the soft, willowy motion of the prairie-elk.

But the women were not good housekeepers; and many a
traveller has gone into the house of a Metis and seen
there a bride witchingly beautiful, with her hair unkempt
and disordered about her shoulders, her boots unlaced, and
her stocking down revealing her bare, exquisitely-turned
ankle.

"A Cinderella!" he would exclaim, "but, by heaven, I
swear, a thousand times more lovely!" If she had a child
it would likely be found sprawling among the coals, and
helping itself to handfuls of ashes. The little creature
would be sure to escape the suspicion of ever having been
washed. Ask the luminous-eyed mother for anything, for
a knife to cut your tobacco, for a cup to get a drink of
water, and the sweet sloven would be obliged to ransack
two-thirds of the articles of the house to find what you
sought.

The dresses worn by herself, as well as by her husband
or her brother, would not be less astonishing to the
unaccustomed eye. The men wear a common blue capote a
red belt and corduroy trousers. This, however, soon became
the costume of every male in Red River, whether Metis or
new-come Canadian. There, is however, a distinction in
the manner of wearing. Lest the Canadian should be taken
for a Metis he wears the red belt over the capote, while
the half-breed wears it beneath. The women are fond of
show, and like to attire themselves in dark skirts, and
crimson bodices. Frequently, if the entire dress be dark,
they tie a crimson or a magenta sash around their handsomely
shapen waists; and they put a cap of some denomination
of red upon their heads. Such colours, it need not be
said, add to their beauty, and it is by no means uncertain
that this is the reason why they adopt these colours.
Some writers say that their love of glaring colours is
derived from the savage side of their natures; but the
Metis women have an artistic instinct of their own, and
being for the greater part coquettes, it may very safely
be said that according to the fitness of things is it
that they attire themselves. But they are not able to
shake off the superstitions of their race. If the young
woman soon to be a mother, sees a hawk while crossing
the fields in the morning, she comes home and tells among
her female friends that her offspring is to be a son;
and they all know that he is to be fleet and enduring in
the chase, and that he will have the eyes of a hunter
chief. But if a shy pigeon circle up from the croft, and
cross her path, she sighs and returns not back to relate
the omen; and it is only in undertones that her nearest
friend learns a week afterwards that the promised addition
to the household is to be a girl. The appearance of other
birds and beasts, under similar circumstances, are likewise
tokens; and though boys would be born, and girls too, if
all the hawks and pigeons, and foxes and wild geese, and
every other presaging bird and beast of the plains had
fallen to the gun of huntsman and "sport," they cling to
the belief; and the superstition will only die with the
civilization that begat it. Many of the customs of their
red mothers they still reverently perpetuate; but they
are for all this deeply overlaid with Canadianism. Of
all the women on the face of the earth, they are the
greatest gossips.

Not in their whole nature is there any impulse so strong
as the love to talk. Therefore, when the morning's meal
is ended, the pretty mother laces the boots around her
shapely little ankles, puts her blanket about her, and
sallies out to one of her friend's houses for the morning's
gossip. In speaking of her dress, I neglected to state
that although the Metis woman had for gown the costliest
fabric ever woven in Cashmere, she would not be content,
on the hottest summer day, in walking twenty paces to
her neighbour's door, unless she had this blanket upon
her. The hateful looking garment is the chief relic of
her barbaric origin, and despite the desire which she
always manifests to exhibit her personal charms at their
best, she has no qualms in converting herself into a
hideous, repulsive squaw, with this covering. If she be
of a shy nature, she will cover her head with this garment
when a stranger enters her abode; and many a curious
visitor who has heard of the bright eyes and olive cheeks
of the half-breed woman is sorely disappointed when
drawing near to her on the prairie path, or in the village
street, to see her pull the hideous blanket over her face
while he passes her by. Not always will she do this, for
the wild women of the plains, and the half breed beauties,
find a strong charm in strange faces; and after she has
received some little attentions, and a few trinkets or
trifles, she will be ready enough to appoint a tryst upon
the flowery prairie, under the mellow moon.

We might forgive her for all this, if she could but
restrain her tongue. From morn to noon, from noon to dewy
eve, this unruly member goes on prattling about every
conceivable thing, especially the affairs of her neighbours.
We have seen that she goes out after she has eaten her
breakfast; and she returns not till her appetite begins
to be oppressive. She will then kiss her dusky little
offspring, who, during her absence, has likely enough
tried to stuff himself with coals, and then played with
the pigs. In the evening one is pretty certain to find
at some house a fiddler and a dancing party, which ends
with a bountiful supper; though frequently, if the
refreshments include whiskey, the party terminates with
a regulation "Irish row." At nearly every such dance
there is a white lad or two, and they are certain to
monopolize the attention and the kisses of the prettiest
girls. As the Indian had to sit by and see the white man
come and take away the most beautiful of the wild girls,
so too must the half-breed bear with meekness the preference
of the Metis belle for the Caucasian stranger.

The morals of the women are not over good, nor can they
be said to be very bad. Amongst each other their virtue
reaches a standard as high as that which prevails in our
Canadian community. It is when the women are brought into
contact with the white men that this standard lowers.
Then comes the temptation, the sin, the domestic
heartburnings, and the hatred towards those who tempted
to the fall.

The half-breed young men are fatally fond of show. The
highest aim of their social existence seems to be to
possess a dashing horse or two, and to drive a cariole.
It is stated, on excellent authority, that a young man
who wishes to figure as a _beau_, and to get the smiles
of the pretty girls, will sometimes sell all his useful
possessions to purchase a horse and cariole.

But it must not be supposed that this sort of spirit
pervades the entire community. A large portion of the
people are thrifty and frugal, and maintain themselves
by continuous, well-directed toil.

The French half breeds profess the Roman Catholic religion,
and they have a number of churches. At the head of the
Roman communion is Archbishop Tache, of St. Boniface.
This is the gentleman who provided the munificence for
Louis Riel's education. He is the same bishop whose name
so many hundreds of thousands of our people cannot recall
without bitterness and indignation.




CHAPTER III.

Such, then, was the condition of Red River before the
person who is the subject of this book appeared upon the
scenes. But perhaps it is as well that I should relate
one occurrence which fanned into bright flame the
smouldering embers of discord between the half-breeds
and their white neighbours. An officer of the Hudson Bay
Company, living at an isolated post, had two daughters.
As they began to arrive toward young-womanhood he was
anxious that they should have an education, in order that
they might, in proper season, be able to take their
position in society. There were good schools at Red River,
and thither the officer sent his daughters, placing them
under the care of a guardian whom he knew would exercise
an authority as judicious as his own. The two girls were
remarkably handsome, and whenever they walked through
the settlement, or drove abroad with their guardian, they
attracted all the attention. Many a half-dusky heart was
smitten of their white skin, which he would compare in
colour to the pure snow that covers the plains. Now had
the faces of the Red River beauties been Parian white,
instead of dusky olive, the young _beaux_ of the settlement
would not have found their hearts beating half so wildly
about the two pale daughters of the Hudson Bay Company's
officer. They would indeed have languished for chestnut
eyes, and complexions of Spain and the southern vineyards
of France. But here amongst their sturdy "tiger blossoms,"
and passionate prairie roses blew two fair cold lilies;
and their hearts bounded beyond measure at the thought
of winning a look or a kindly smile. But the guardian
watched the two pale girls closely, and permitted them
to do little beyond his _surveillance_. There were not
many whites in the circle of their acquaintance, but of
this few, nearly every one was a suitor for one or other
of the girls, yet for all the advances their hearts were
still whole and they moved,

   "In maiden meditation fancy free."

Now in Red River was a young half-breed, almost effeminate
in manners, handsome in face and form, and agreeable and
gentle in his address. He was indeed a sort of Bunthorne
of the plains, just such a person as a romantic, shallow
girl is most apt for a rose's period to sigh out her soul
about. You find his type in fashionable civilised circles,
in the languid dude who displays his dreams in his eyes
to captivate the hearts of the silly girls, and--discreetly
--keeps his mouth shut, to conceal his lack of brains.
The two white daughters of the Company's officer were
girls of ordinary understanding, but one of them had
gotten too much poetry into her sweet head, and stood on
the verge of a dizzy steep that overlooked a gulf, the
name of which was Love. At a party given by one of the
foremost of the half-breed families, this girl met
Alexander, the Scottish half-breed, whose person and
manners have been just described. There was something in
the dreamy, far-away expression of the young Metis' eyes,
which stirred the blood in the veins of the romantic
girl. When they rested upon her, the soul of their owner
seemed to yearn out to her. The voiceless, tender,
passionate appealing in the look she was unable to forget
when she walked along the grassy lanes, or trod the
flower-rimmed path of the prairie.

Coming along in the hush of the summer evening, when only
the lovemaking of the grasshoppers could be heard among
the flowers, Alexander met her, He spoke no word, but
there was the same tender, eloquent appealing in his
eyes. He thought the young lady would not take it amiss
of him, if he were to join her on her way over the fields;
so he had taken the liberty.

There was a flutter at her heart, and a great passion-rose
bloomed in each cheek.

No, she would not take it amiss. The walk was so pleasant!
Indeed it was kind of him to join her.

The dusky lover spake few words; but he indolently left
the path and gathered some sprays of wild flowers, and
offered them to the girl. His eyes had the same, wistful
look, and his brown fingers trembled as he offered the
bouquet. Receiving them, and pinning them under her
throat, she said in a low tone, while her voice trembled
a little,

"When these fade, I shall press the petals in my book,
and keep them always."

"Do you consider the flowers I gave you worth preserving?"
he asked, his low voice likewise trembling.

"I do."

"I would give more than that," he said, tenderly, "to
your keeping."

"Why," she enquired, with an unsuccessful attempt at
displaying wonder, "what is it that you would give to my
keeping?"

"My heart," the young man answered, his indolent eyes
lighting up in the gloaming. She said nothing, but hung
her head. The swarthy lover saw that she took no offence
at his declaration. Indeed he gathered from the quivering
of her red, moist lips, and from the tenderness in her
eye, that the avowal had more than pleased her. She
continued for a few seconds to look bashfully down at
the path; and then she raised her eyes and looked at him.
No more encouragement was needed.

"My beloved," he said, softly, and her head nestled upon
his shoulder. There in the shadow of a small colony of
poplars, on the verge of the boundless plain, shining
under the full, ripe moon, each plighted troth to the
other, and gave and received burning kisses. During the
sweet, fast-fleeting hours on the calm plain, in her
lover's arms, with no witness but the yellow moon, she
took no heed of the barriers that lay between a union
with her beloved; nor had he any foreboding of obstacles,
but heard and declared vows of love, supremely happy.

Woman is a sort of Pandora's Box, the lid whereof is
being forever raised, revealing the secrets within. The
plighted maiden was flushed of cheek and unusually bright
of eye when she returned to her home that evening. She
could give her guardian no satisfactory account of her
long absence, and told a very confused story about two
paths, "you know," that were "very much alike"; but that
"one led away around a poplar wood and out upon a portion
of the prairie" which she did "not know." Here the sweet
pet had got astray, and wandered around, although "it
was so silly," till the sound of the bells of St. Boniface
tolling ten had apprised her of the hour and also let
her know where she was. Her guardian took the explanation,
and contented himself with observing that he hoped it
would be her last evening upon the prairie, straying
around like an elk that had lost her mate.

"Jennie," said her sister, when they were alone, "you
have not been telling the truth. You did not get astray
on the prairie. Somebody has been courting you, and you
are in love with him."

"I am in love; and it is true that some one has been
courting me. I had intended to tell you all about it, my
heart is so full. Now can you tell me who may my lover
be?"

"I hope, Jennie," and the sister's eyes showed a blending
of severity and sorrow, "that it is not Alexander."

"It is Alexander. Why should it not be? Is he not handsome,
and gentle, and good? Wherefore then not he?"

"My God, do you know what such an alliance would cost
you, would cost us all? Marriage with a half-breed would
be a degradation; and a stain upon the whole family that
never could be wiped out. O my poor unfortunate sister,
ruin is what such a marriage would mean. Just that, my
darling sister, and no less."

"I care not for that. I love him with all my heart and
soul, and pledged myself to-night a hundred times to be
his. I never can love another man; and he only shall
possess me. What care I for the degradation of which you
speak, as measured against the crowning misery, or the
supreme happiness of my life? No; when Alexander is ready
to say to me, Come, I shall go to him, and no threat nor
persuasion shall dissuade me."

She spoke like all the heroic girls who afterwards meekly
untie their bonnets just as they were ready to go to the
church to wed against their keeper's will; and then sit
down awaiting orders as to whom they must marry. Jennie
was not the only girl who, in the first flush of passion,
is prepared to go through fire, or die at the stake for
the man she loves. Withal,--but that the proprieties
forbid it--whenever young women make these dramatic
declarations, the most appropriate course would be to
give them a sound spanking, and put an end to the tragic
business.

Nellie thought it her duty, and I suppose it was, to tell
her bear-like guardian what had befallen to her sister.
He was less disturbed on hearing the intelligence than
Nellie supposed, and merely expressed some cold-blooded
surprise at the presumption of the half-breed. He sat
at his desk, and taking a sheet of paper, wrote this
letter:

"To Alexander Saunders:

"DEAR SIR,--Would you be good enough to call at my house
this evening at eight o'clock?

"Yours truly,

"Thomas Brown."

Having sealed and dispatched this note he resumed his
work, without showing or feeling any further concern
about the matter. When it was growing dark over the
prairie that evening, the love-lorn Jennie saw her
pleading-eyed lover pass along in the shadow of the
poplars toward her guardian's house. She heard his ring
at the door, and his step in the hall. Her heart was in
a great flutter; but her sister was at her side giving
her comfort. The doors were wide open, but everything
was so husht, that the girls could plainly hear the
following words spoken in the guardian's library:

"I understand, Mr. Saunders, that you have been taking
the astonishingly presumptuous course of soliciting the
hand of one of my wards. I am not given to severity, or
I do not exactly know how I ought to resent an act which
exhibits such a forgetfulness of what your attitude should
be towards a person in the station of my ward. You are
merely a half-breed; you are half-Indian, and for that
matter might as well be Indian altogether. My ward's
position is such that the bare idea of such a union is
revolting. She is a lady by birth and by education, and
is destined for a social sphere into which you could
never, and ought never, enter. You may now go, sir, but
you must remember that your ignorance is the only palliation
of your presumption. Laurie, show this young man the way
out."

"O, my God, what will become of me?" sobbed poor Jennie.
"I cannot live! O, I will go after him! I will fly with
him! I cannot endure this separation! O, sister, will
you not intercede for my beloved? Tell uncle how noble
and manly, and honourable he is! Can you not do anything
for me? My God, what shall I do?"

In this fashion did poor Jennie's grief find words, and
we leave her alone with her sore heart, while we follow
the rejected suitor. He walked swiftly down the lawn,
turning not his eye, or he might have seen in the window
his lover, stretching imploring arms toward him. All his
blood was running madly in his veins, and it burned like
fire. His heart was hot, and his temples throbbed.

"So I am only a half-breed, and might as well be all
Indian for that matter! O, God! A despised half-breed!
They have shown the fangs at last. We now see how they
regard us." And he went forth among his friends, and told
the story of the insult and humiliation. A thousand
half-breed hearts that night in Red River burned with
vengeance against the white man; French Metis and English
Metis alike had felt the sting of the indignity; and
these two bodies, sundered before through petty cause,
now united in a brotherhood of hate against the white
population. It needs no further words to shew how ready
these dusky people would be to rise and follow a crafty
leader, who cried out:

"We are despised by these white people. We want no social
or political alliance with them. We shall live apart,
rather than in ignominy and union with them." Louis Riel
was not ready the next morning to rise and lead the people
to revolt, for this occurred some years before his bloody
star reached the zenith; but the same hatred was there
years later, when he turned the governor sent to the
colony by the Dominion out of the territories, and set
up an authority of his own. Well might the French historian,
cognisant of the fate of the luckless suitor, and the
consequences of the rejection, cry out with the poet:

   "_Amour tu perdis Troie._"
   [Footnote: Love thou hast conquered even Troy.]

As for poor Jennie, heroic Jennie, who would follow her
lover to death itself, she submitted, after a few sleepless
nights, and days that for her were without a breakfast,
to the mandate of the guardian, and to the philosophy of
her sister. A little later, a tall, ungainly young
Highlander came, offered himself, and took to his home
the poetic and tragic daughter of the Company's officer.

Despite the blizards that sometimes come sweeping across
the prairie, smothering belated travellers, and un-roofing
dwellings, notwithstanding the frequent incursions from
regions in the far west of myriad-hosts of locusts and
grasshoppers, Red River settlement throve in wealth and
population, till, when the period with which I shall now
deal arrived, it numbered no fewer than 15,000 souls.
Upon the completion of the great Act of the Confederation
of the British North American Provinces in 1867, the
attention of Canadian statesmen was turned to this distant
colony, and negotiations were opened for the transfer of
the Territory to the Dominion. The back of great monopolies
had now been broken. In 1858, England had resumed its
great Indian empire and extinguished John Company; and
this act had paved the way for a similar resumption of
the vast prairie domain granted by King Charles to "the
Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading
into Hudson Bay." The transfer was to be effected, as
one writer puts it, by a triangular sort of arrangement.
All territorial rights claimed by the Hudson Bay Company
--and Red River lay within the Company's dominions--were
to be annulled on payment of 300,000 pounds by Canada,
and the country would then be handed over by Royal
proclamation to the Dominion Government, the Company
being allowed to retain only certain parcels of land in
the vicinity of its trading posts. I may as well go upon
the authority of the same writer. [Footnote: Captain G.
L. Huyshe.] The transfer was dated for the 1st of December,
1869; but the Dominion Cabinet, eager to secure the rich
prize, appointed its Minister of Public Works, the Honourable
William McDougall, C.B., to be Lieutenant-Governor of
the North-West Territories, and sent him off in the month
of September, with instructions to proceed to Fort Garry
"with all convenient speed" there to assist in the formal
transfer of the Territories, and to "be ready to assume
the Government" as soon as the transfer was completed.
So far so well, but let us pause just here.

There is something to be said even on the side of revolt
and murder, and let us see what it is. Since the foundation
of the colony the people had lived under the government
according to the laws propounded by the Hudson Bay Company.
The people had established a civilization of their own,
and had customs and rules which were always observed with
great reverence. When tidings reached them that they were
to be transferred to the Dominion of Canada, they began
to have some misgivings as to how they should fare under
the new order. Of late years, too, there had come into
prominence among them a man whom early in these pages we
saw bid good-bye to his father upon the plains on his
way to school in the East. The fire seen in young Riel
at the school, and when he turned his face again for the
prairies that he loved, had now reached full flame. He
had never ceased to impress upon the people that the
Hudson Bay Company was a heartless, soulless corporation,
and that the treatment accorded to the Metis was no better
than might have been given to the dogs upon the plains.
There never was public peace after the tongue of this
man had begun to make noise in the settlement.

When, therefore, it became known that the Canadian
Government had determined upon taking the colony to
itself, an ambitious scheme of the highest daring entered
into the brain of Louis Riel. He lost no time in beginning
to sow seeds of discontent.

"Canada," he said, "will absorb your colony, and as a
people you will virtually be blotted out of existence.
White officials will come here and lord it over you; the
tax-gatherer will plunder the land for funds to build
mighty docks, and canals, and bridges, and costly buildings,
and numerous railroads in the East. The poor half-breed
will be looked upon with contempt and curiosity: no
custom that he regards as sacred will be respected; no
right which is inherently his, will be acknowledged.
They will send their own henchmen, who have no sympathy
in common with the half-breeds, to rule over us; no
complaint that the people make to the Central Government
will be regarded; yea, this new rule will fasten itself
upon us as some inexorable tyrant monster, driving deep
its fangs into a soil that has been yours so long. Yes;
you will be of _some_ interest to them. You have some
handsome wives and pretty daughters, and those virtuous
pale-faces from the East have a strong admiration for
lovely women. In this respect, you shall receive their
attention."

The effect of such arguments among these credulous people,
who saw not the wily traitor behind the rich, eloquent
voice, quivering with indignation, was similar to that
which would follow were you to fling a flaming torch upon
the prairie in midsummer after a month of drought. Then
the cunning deceiver went secretly to several of the
leading half-breeds in Red River, and whispered certain
proposals in their ear.

Meanwhile, events were transpiring which furnished
just the very fuel that Riel wanted for his fire. During
the summer of 1869, a surveying party, under Colonel
Dennis, had been engaged surveying the country, and
dividing it into townships, etc., for future allotment by
government. According to good authority, the proceedings
of this party had given great offence to the Metis. The
unsettled state of the half-breeds' land tenure not
unnaturally excited apprehension in the minds of these
poor ignorant people that their lands would be taken from
them, and given to Canadian immigrants. Then they had
the burning words of Louis Riel ringing in their ears
saying that the thing _would_ be done. To lend colour to
the mistrust, some members of the surveying party put up
claims here and there to tracts of land to which they
happened to take a fancy. But this was not all. Some of
these gentlemen had the habit of giving the Indians drink
till they became intoxicated, and then inducing them to
make choice lands over to them. One could not pass through
any superior tract of land without observing the stakes
of some person or other of Colonel Dennis's party.

"I foretold it," cried Riel. "Go out for yourselves and
see the marks they have set up bounding their plunder."
Nor was this the only grievance presented to the
half-breeds. The very survey then being carried on they
looked upon as an act of contempt towards themselves;
for Riel had put it in this light.

"The territory has not yet passed into the hands of the
Canadian government"--and in saying this the Disturber
was accurate--; "what right have they, therefore, to come
here and lay down lines? It is as I have already told
you: You are of as much importance in the eyes of the
Canadian authorities, as would be so many dogs."

Nor were these the only grievances either. A "big man,"
a white, living at the settlement, had made himself
obnoxious to the whole of Red River. He well knew how
the people hated him, and he retorted by saying:

"Your scurvy race is almost run. Presently you will get
into civilized hands, and be put through your facings.
You disrespect me, but my counsels prevail at Ottawa.
Only what I recommend, will the Government do; so that
you see the settlement is very completely in my hands."
This man was a valuable ally to Riel; for almost literally
did he, while portending to speak for the Dominion
authorities, corroborate the allegation of the arch
agitator. Then two officials, Messrs Snow and Mair, sent
out by Mr. McDougall, while he was yet Minister of Public
Works, had established an intimacy with the obnoxious
white man, received his hospitality, and given acquiescent
ear to his advice. These two gentlemen looked upon the
half-breeds as savages. They sent letters to the newspapers,
describing Red River and its people in terms grossly
unjust, and inaccurate. M. Riel got the communications
and read them to the people.

"This," he said, "is the manner in which they describe
our customs, our social life, and the virtue of our
women." The women tossed their heads haughtily.

"We do what is right," they said, "and they can slander
us if they will. We shall not prove, perhaps, so easy a
prey to those white gallants as they seem to suppose."
One high-spirited girl, and very beautiful, vowed that
during the run of her life, she never would speak to a
white man for this insult, or let him see her face. Yet,
if the gossip is to be trusted, before the flowers bloomed
thrice, after that, upon the prairie, she was sighing
her sweet soul away, through her great gazelle eyes, for
love of a sturdy young Englishman, who had taken up his
abode upon the plains. And better than all the young
fellow married her, and she is now one of the happiest,
not to say one of the prettiest, women in Manitoba.
Strong words of determination by a young woman are the
most conclusive evidence that I know of the weakening of
her resolve.

But Messrs Snow and Mair went on with their creditable
work, and to their other good deeds it was alleged they
added that of grabbing choice plots of land.

These two men were, of course, known to be the accredited
agents of the Minister of Public Works; and Riel succeeded
in convincing the credulous people that the Minister,
indeed the whole government, were cognizant of their acts
and approved of the same. "While public indignation was
at its height, it was announced that a Lieutenant-Governor
had been appointed for Red River, and that the man chosen
was the very person through whom the chief indignity had
been put upon the settlement. It was also shown with
burning force by Riel that in a matter so important as
the transfer of fifteen thousand people from one particular
jurisdiction to another, they, the people transferred,
had not been consulted. They had not, he also pointed
out, been even formally apprised of the transfer.

"This Canadian Government take Red River and its half-breeds
over, just as they would take over Red River and fifteen
thousand sheep." And some of the men swore terrible oaths
that this change should not be without resistance, and
resistance to the death.

Riel said that the determination was good.




CHAPTER IV.

Having worked the unreasoning settlers to this pitch,
Riel was satisfied. Public feeling needed but the fuse
of some bold step of his to burst into instant flame. As
the Lieutenant-Governor drew near the territory the
agitator was almost beside himself with excitement. He
neither ate nor slept but on foot or sleigh, was for ever
moving from one to another perfecting plans, or inciting
to tumult. At the house of a prominent half-breed, while
the women sat about stitching, Riel met a number of the
leading agitators, and thus addressed them:

"There are two courses open to us now. One is to continue
as an unorganized band of noisy disturbers; the other,
to league ourselves into an organized body for the defence
and government of our country." This proposal thrilled
the veins of his listeners, and pouting, coral-coloured
female lips, said softly,

   "Brava!"

A sort of fitful reflection followed the first wild burst
of enthusiasm, and one _bois brule_ arose and said:

"Far be it from me to utter one word that might dampen
your ardor, but let us try to take some account of the
cost. Would not such a step be an act of Rebellion? and
is not Rebellion a treasonable offence?" At this point
Riel, foaming with rage, arose and stopped him.

"We want no poltroonery, no alarmist sentiments here,"
he shouted. "Even though such an act were as you describe
it, our duty as men, determined to guard their sacred
rights, is to take the risk. But it would not be treason.
The transfer of a people from one government to another
is not constitutional without the people's consent. The
Hudson's Bay Company have certain rights in the unsold
lands of these regions; but no man, no corporation, no
power, can sell, cede, or transfer that which is not his
or its own property. Therefore the Hudson Bay Company
has not the right to transfer our lands to the Dominion
of Canada. And since we, the people of Red River, are
not the chattels of the Company, they cannot transfer
us. They have sold us to the Canadian government, but
upon the ground between the two authorities will we stand,
and create a province of our own. It may be that the
Dominion Government will have justice enough to agree to
this; if they oppose our rights, then I trust that there
are men on Red River, who are not afraid to stand up for,
yea to die for, their country." This speech was received
with deafening acclamation.

At once a Provisional Government was formed, and at the
instigation of Riel, John Bruce, who was a mere cat's-paw,
was declared President. Riel himself took the Secretaryship;
and very promptly the Secretary raised his voice.

"McDougall who sent his scourges here to plunder our
land, and to ridicule our people, nears our border.
There is no time to lose. _He must not enter_. I, therefore,
move that the following letter be dispatched to him by
a regularly constituted member of our Government:

"St. Nobert, Red River, October 21st, 1869.

"Sir,--The National Parliament of the Metis of Red River,
hereby forbids you to enter the North-West Territories
without a special permit from the National Government."

This motion was carried with enthusiasm. The letter was
signed by the President and Secretary, and dispatched to
Pembina, which was situate on the border, to await the
arrival at that point of the Governor Designate. The pomp
and daring of these proceedings had such an effect upon
the colonists, that little by little they began to grow
blind to the fact that their action was in the face of
Canadian authority, and an invitation to a collision of
arms. If anyone expressed any fear he was either savagely
silenced by Riel, or informed that there were men enough
in Red River to hold the country in the face of any force
that could be sent against them. And the military enthusiasm
of the Metis gave some colour to this latter assertion.
An armed force, sufficient for present necessities, was
established on Scratching River, a place about fifteen
miles from Fort Garry. Here a barrier was put across the
road by which McDougall must travel to reach Fort Garry,
and beyond this the half-breeds swore the pale face
Governor should never pass.

On the 30th day of October, Mr. McDougall arrived at
Pembina. He was already aware that the country was seething
with tumult; that Colonel Dennis had been turned out of
the Territory; that Messrs. Snow & Mair had become hateful
in the eyes of the half-breeds: yet he felt disposed to
do little more than laugh at the whole affair. He had
the assurance of his mischievous envoys that the matter
was a mere temporary ebullition of feeling, and that his
presence in the country would very soon calm the turbulent
waters. So he said:

"I shall take no notice of this impertinent letter. In
fact it is impossible for me to recognise such a piece
of presumption, and deal with a communication which would
be the rankest insolence, but that it is so extremely
ludicrous." So the gallant Lieutenant-Governor, with his
officials, boldly crossed the line and proceeded towards
Fort Garry. But they were met on their triumphant march
by a detachment of fourteen armed half-breeds whose
spokesman said:

"You received an order from the Provisional Government
not to enter these territories. When that order was passed
it was the Government's intention to take care that it
should be carried out. Yet you have forced yourself in
here I give you till to-morrow morning to be clear of
these territories." Mr. McDougall's lip began to hang a
little low. The calm, even polite, tone of the spokesman
of the party had impressed him more than bluster or rage.
With the next morning came the same party. They made no
noise, but quietly taking the horses of the Governor's
party by the head, turned them around, and packed the
whole of them back. In this way, and without so much as
a loud word, was the Governor Designate turned out of
the territories.

Every success, however trivial, was fuel to the courage
and enthusiasm of Riel's party.

"I have begun this matter," the leader said to one of
his followers, "and I do not mean to deal in half measures.
Without stores we can do nothing. Fort Garry is worth
our having just now, but we must move circumspectly in
getting possession of it." So it was ordered that his
followers should proceed in twos and threes, as if on no
special mission, to the desired point. Presently, Governor
McTavish saw in the shadow of the fort the rebel leader
and a number of followers.

"We are desirous of entering," Riel said.

"Wherefore?" enquired the Governor.

"We cannot tell you now," was the reply; "it is enough
for me to say that a great danger threatens the fort."
Without further explanation, the feeble-willed Hudson
Bay officer permitted the rebel and his followers to
enter.

"Huzza!" they all shouted, when they found themselves
inside the stockades, and glanced at tier upon tier of
barrels of flour, and pork, and beef, and molasses; and
upon the sacks of corn, and the warm clothing, and better
than all, upon the arms and ammunition.

"I am at last master in Red River," Riel said to one of
his followers. "My men can fight now, for here we have
at once a fortification and a base of supplies."

Just a few words with reference to Mr. McDougall, and I
shall dismiss him from these pages. He lived quietly at
Pembina between the date of his expulsion from Red River
and the first day of December. The latter date was fixed
for the transfer of the new territory to the Dominion of
Canada. So, towards midnight, on the 30th of November,
the Governor-Designate and his party sallied, forth from
the "line" and took formal possession of the territory
in the name of the Government of Canada. There was no
one stirring about the prairie on the night in question,
for the glass shewed the thermometer to be 20 degrees
below zero: so the gallant Governor was enabled to take
possession without obstruction.

Riel was now fairly intoxicated with success. Some of
his followers would sometimes ask him if he had no fear
that the Canadian Government would send out a large force
of soldiers against him. His invariable reply was:

"They never will do this. The way is too long, and the
march too difficult. They will eventually make up their
mind to let us rule this Province ourselves."

"And do you propose to stand aloof as an independent
colony?"

"Perhaps! And, perhaps, we may, by and by, discuss the
subject of annexation." For all the man's cunning and
courage, he was almost as short-sighted as any savage
upon the plain. And the small measure of Indian blood in
him would assert itself in many ways. The people began
to look upon him as another Napoleon triumphant, and to
give him honour in every way that suggested itself. He
made a great display of his importance, and would boast
among his friends that he was as diplomatic and as able
as any statesman in Canada, and that even his enemies
admitted this. In his earlier days he sought, persistently,
the smiles of the fair girls of the plains, but somehow
or another he was never a very great favourite with the
olive-skinned beauties. Now, however, the case was
different with him. The Red River belles saw in him a
hero and a statesman of the highest order, the ruler of
a colony, and the defiant and triumphant enemy of the
whole Dominion of Canada. So the poor, shallow pets began
to ply their needles, and make for him presents of delicate
things. One sewed gorgeous beads upon his hunting coat,
and another set his jacket spangling with quills of the
porcupine. The good priests of Red River, and their pious
vicar, _pere_ Lestanc, whom Monseigneur had left in charge
of the Diocese while he was attending the Ecumenical
Council in Rome, came forward with their homage. These
worthy gentlemen had been in the habit of reading from
the Catechism ever since the time they were first able
to tell their beads, or to make mud pies, these words:
"He that resisteth the power, resisteth the ordinance of
God; and they that (so) resist shall purchase to themselves
damnation." Here was a madly ambitious adventurer "resisting
the power," and, therefore, "resisting the ordinances of
God;" but these precious divines saw no harm whatever in
the act. Indeed, they were the most persistent abettors
in the uprising, counselling their flock to be zealous
and firm, and to follow the advice of their patriotic
and able leader, M. Riel. The great swaggering, windy
_pere_ Richot, took his coarse person from house to house
denouncing the Canadian Government and inciting the
people.

"No harm can come to you," he would say; "you have in
the Canadian Government a good friend in Mr. George E.
Cartier. He will see that no hair of one of your heads
is touched." And Riel went abroad giving the same assurance.
Moreover, it was known to every thinking one of the
fifteen thousand Metis that Riel was a _protege_ of
Monseigneur Tache; that through this pious bishop it was
he had received his education, and that His Lordship
would not alone seek to minimize what his favourite had
done, but would say that the uprising was a justifiable
one. This was how the Catholic Church in Red River
stimulated the diseased vanity and the lawless spirit of
this thrice-dangerous Guiteau of the plains.

I have already said that Bruce was put up by Riel as a
mere figure-head. When the end of the pretence had been
accomplished, this poor scare-crow was thrown down and
Louis Riel assumed the presidency of the Provisional
Government. Now he began to draw to himself all those
men whom he knew would be faithful tools in carrying out
any scheme of villainy, or even of blood that he proposed
to them. The coarse and loud-mouthed O'Donoghue was duly
installed as a confidential attendant with wide powers,
and Lepine was made head of the military part of the
insurrectionary body. It certainly was strange if the
treasonable undertaking should not be successful with
the acquisition of all the fearless and lawless personages
that the half-breed community could produce, and the
vicar-general and the swaggering father Richot offering
up masses that it should prevail.

It must not be supposed that there were no white people
in this Red River region. There were very many indeed,
and some of them held prominent places in the community
through high character or through affluence. Most of
these persons were loyal to the heart's core, and were
of opinion that the rising had nothing justifiable in
it, and regarded it as a criminal and treasonable rebellion.
At meetings, held in the town of Winnipeg, some of these
gentlemen were at no pains to give expression to their
sentiments. But Riel's murderous eye was upon them; and
he was revolving over divers plans of vengeance. There
was no reason why he should hesitate in taking any step
that promised help to the cause, for Holy Church was
praying for its success, and working for it, too. The
shedding of the blood of a few heretics was a matter of
small consequence: indeed, the act would only hallow a
cause that had patriotism under, and religion behind it.
We shall leave Riel glaring with wolfish eyes upon the
good men who raised their voices against lawlessness,
and relate a story which will shed a new light upon the
darkest deed of the dark career of the miscreant Rebel.




CHAPTER V.

Some time before the outbreak, Riel, in company with a
half-breed, had gone in the autumn shooting chicken along
the prairies. The hunting-ground was many miles distant
from Riel's home, so that the intention of the sportsmen
was to trust themselves to the hospitality of some
farm-house in the neighbourhood. The settlers were all,
with two or three exceptions, Metis; and the door of the
half-breed is never shut against traveller or stranger.
One late afternoon, as the two men were passing along
the prairie footpath towards a little settlement, they
heard at some distance over the plain, a girl singing.
The song was exquisitely worded and touching, and the
singer's voice was sweet and limpid as the notes of a
bobolink. M. Riel, like Mohammed, El Mahdi, and other
great patrons of race and religion, is strong of will;
but he is weaker than a shorn Samson when a lovely woman
chooses to essay a conquest. So he marvelled much to his
companion as to who the singer might be, and proposed
that both should leave the path and join the unknown fair
one. A few minutes walk brought the two beyond a small
poplar grove, and there, upon a fallen tree-bole, in the
delicious cool of the autumn evening, they saw the
songstress sitting. She was a maiden of about eighteen
years, and her soft, silky-fine, dark hair was over her
shoulders. In girlish fancy she had woven for herself a
crown of flowers out of marigolds and daisies, and put
it upon her head. She did not hear the footsteps of the
men upon the soft prairie, and they did not at once reveal
themselves, but stood a little way back listening to her.
She had ceased her song, and was gazing beyond intently.
On the naked limb of a desolate, thunder-riven tree that
stood apart from its lush, green-boughed neighbours, sat
a lonely thrush in seeming melancholy. Every few seconds
he would utter a note of song. Sometimes it was low and
sorrowful, then it was louder, with the same sad quality
in it, as if the lonely bird were calling for some
responsive voice from far away over the prairie.

"Dear bird, you have lost your mate, and are crying out
for her," the girl said, stretching out her little brown
hand compassionately toward the low-crouching songster.
"Your companions have gone to the South, and you wait
here trusting that your mate will come back, and not
journey to summer lands without you. Is not that so, my
poor bird? Ah, would that I could go with you where there
are always flowers, and ever can be heard the ripple of
little brooks. Here the leaves will soon fall, ah, me!
and the daisies wither, and instead of the delight of
summer we shall have only the cry of hungry wolves, and
the bellowing of bitter winds above the ghastly plains.
But could I go to the South, there is no one who would
sing over my absence one lamenting note, as you sing, my
bird, for the mate with whom you had so many hours of
sweet lovemaking in these prairie thickets. Nobody loves
me woos me, cares for me, or sings about me. I am not
even as the wild rose here, though it seems to be alone
and is forbidden to take its walk: for it holds up its
bright face and can see its lover; and he breathes back
upon the kind, willing, breeze-puffs, through all the
summer, sweet-scented love messages, tidings of a matrimony
as delicious as that of the angels." She stood up, and
raised her arms above her head yearningly. The autumn
wind was cooing in her hair, and softly swaying its silken
meshes.

"Fare well, my desolate one: may your poor little heart
be gladder soon. Could I but be a bird, arid you would
have me for a companion, your lamenting should not be
for long. We should journey loitering and love-making
all the long sweet way, from here to the South, and have
no repining."

Turning around, she perceived two men standing close
beside her. She became very confused, and clutched for
the blanket to cover her face, but she had strayed away
among the flowers without it. Very deeply she blushed
that the strangers should have heard her; and she spake
not.

"Bon jour, ma belle fille." It was M. Riel who had
addressed her. He drew closer, and she, in a very low
voice, her olive face stained with a faint flush of
crimson, answered,

"Bon jour, Monsieur."

"Be not abashed. We heard what you were saying to the
bird, and I think the sentiments were very pretty."

This but confused the little prairie beauty all the more.
But the gallant stranger took no heed of her embarrassment.

"With part of your declaration I cannot agree. A maiden
with such charms as yours is not left long to sigh for
a lover. Believe me, I should like to be that bird to
whom you said you would, if you could, offer love and
companionship." M. Riel made no disguise of his admiration
for the beautiful girl of the plains. He stepped up by
her side and was about to take her hand after delivering
himself of this gallant speech, but she quickly drew
it away. Passing through a covert as they neared the
little settlement, Riel's sportsman companion walked
ahead, leaving the other two some distance in the rear.
The ravishing beauty of the girl was more than the
amorously-disposed stranger could resist, and suddenly
throwing his arms around her he sought to kiss her. But
the soft-eyed fawn of the desert soon showed herself in
the guise of a petit bete sauvage. With a startling scream
she bounded away from his grasp.

"How do you dare take this liberty with me, Monsieur,"
she said, her eyes kindled with anger and wounded pride.
"You first meanly come and intrude upon my privacy; next
you must turn what knowledge you gain by acting spy and
eavesdropper, into a means of offering me insult. You
have heard me say that I had no lover to sigh for me. I
spoke the truth: I _have_ no such lover. But you I will
not accept as one; your very sight is already hateful
to me." And turning, with flushed cheek and gleaming
eyes, she entered the cosy, cleanly-kept little cottage
of her father. But she soon reflected that she had been
guilty of an unpardonably inhospitable act in not asking
the strangers to enter. Suddenly turning, she walked
rapidly back, and overtook the crest-fallen wooer and
his companion, and said in a voice from which every trace
of her late anger had disappeared.

"Entrez, Messieurs."

M. Riel's countenance speedily lost its gloom, and,
respectfully touching his hat, he said:

"Oui, Mademoiselle, avec le plus grand plaisir." Tripping
lightly ahead she announced the two strangers, and then
returned, going to the bars where the cows were lowing,
waiting to be milked. The persistent sportsman had not
by any means made up his mind to desist in the wooing.

"The colt shies," he murmured, "when she first sees the
halter. Presently she becomes tractable enough." Then,
while he sat waiting for the evening meal, blithely
through the hush of the exquisite evening came the voice
of the girl. She was singing from _La Claire Fontaine_:

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

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

"Ah, ma petite amie!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER VI.

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

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

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

"Il est, Monsieur."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No Monsieur; no reason."

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

"Oui, Monsieur."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Oui, Monsieur, by every _fair_ means."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER VII.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"My love."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, Monsieur."

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

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

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

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

The horseman was riding off.

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

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

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

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

"Is there a guvernment in this counthry?"

"There is."

"Thin I'm opposed to it."

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

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

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

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

"Is he in the Fort?"

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I do."

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

"Contemptible villain, liar and tyrant, I will _not_
reveal to you. Begone. By heaven! if you stand there I
shall bury my hands in your foul, craven throat."

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

"_Quis furores o cives?_"

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

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

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

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

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




CHAPTER VIII.

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

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

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

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

"Suppose I release these prisoners?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"From this day forth the public highways are open.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"LOUIS RIEL.

"Government House,

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


[*2 Footnote: This document claimed:--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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

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