Annette, the Metis Spy Part 8

"Nay, brave chief," replied Annette, "my mother is on the way hither, and I must return and see that she is safe from harm." And despite the beseeching eyes of the chief's prettiest wife, the daring spy turned her horse and rode away followed by her dumb brother.

"Now Julie, we must see how it fares with the boat," and the two horses went at a long, swinging gallop down the banks of Saskatchewan.

With the boat all was right, and in her clear, bird-like voice, Annette informed the fugitives that Big Bear and his braves had returned to their lodges.

"What turned then back?" enquired the same low, musical voice.

Annette hesitated, for she was not a girl that boasted of her achievements. There are enough of maids white and brown, of lesser character, to do that sort of thing.

"I told a story; I said that a great body of soldiers were close at hand."

"Brava, brava," and the girl heard many words of warm commendation spoken in the boat. Then letting her luminous eyes linger for a moment with a tender longing upon the barge, she raised her voice, saying,

"Bon voyage Messieurs," and was off through the dark like a swallow.

Meanwhile tidings of atrocities committed by Indians upon unoffending settlers, began to set the blood s.h.i.+vering in the veins of persons throughout the continent; and one horrible circ.u.mstance, bearing upon the story, I shall relate. At the distant settlement of Frog Lake, at the commencement of the tumult, when night came down, Indians, smeared in hideous, raw, earthy-smelling paint, would creep about among the dwellings, and peer, with eyes gleaming with hate, through the window-panes at the innocent and unsuspecting inmates. At last one chief, with a diabolical face, said,

"Brothers, we must be avenged upon every white man and woman here.

We will shoot them like dogs." The answer to this harangue was the clanking of barbaric instruments of music, the brandis.h.i.+ng of tomahawks, and the gleam of hunting-knives. Secretly the Indians went among the Bois-Brules squatting about, and revealed their plans; but some of these people shrank with fear from the proposal. Others, however, said,

"We shall join you." So the plan was arranged, and it was not very long before it was carried out. And now runners were everywhere on the plains, telling that Marton had a mighty army made up of most of the brave Indians of the prairies, and comprising all the dead shots among the half-breeds; that he had encountered heavy forces of police and armed civilians, and overthrown them without losing a single man.

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

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

"When the white faces come to our lodge, they will expect no harm.

Ugh! Then the red man will have his vengeance." So every Indian was instructed to have his rifle at hand in the lodge. The white folk wondered why the Indians had arranged for a conference.

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

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

The morning of the fateful day opened gloomily, as if it could not look cheerily down upon the b.l.o.o.d.y events planned in this distant wilderness. Low, indigo clouds pressed down upon the hills, but there was not a stir in all the air. No living thing was seen stirring, save troops of blue-jays which went scolding from tree to tree before the settlers as they proceeded to the conference. Here and there, also, was a half-famished, yellow, or black and yellow dog, with small head and long scraggy hair, skulking about the fields and among the wigwams of the Indians in search for food.

The lodge where the parley was to be held stood in a hollow. Behind was a tall hill, crowned with timber; round about it grew poplar, white oak, and firs; while in front rolled by a swift dark stream.

Unsuspecting harm, two priests of the settlement, Oblat Fathers, named Fafard and Marchand, were the first at the spot.

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

"Entrez." Opening the door, the two good priests walked in, and turned to look for seats. Ah! What was the sight presented! Eyes like those of wild beasts, aflame with hate and ferocity, gleamed from the gloom of the back portion of the room. The priests were amazed. They knew not what all this meant. Then a wild shriek was given, and the chief cried,

"Enemies to the red man, you have come to your doom." Then raising his rifle, he fired at Father Marchand. The levelling of his rifle was the general signal. A dozen other muzzles were pointed, and in briefer s.p.a.ce than it takes to relate the two priests lay weltering in their blood, pierced each by half a dozen bullets.

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

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

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

"h.e.l.l hounds!" he cried, "what b.l.o.o.d.y work have you on hand? What means this?" pointing to the floor.

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

All this while the savages sat mute as stones, each holding his rifle in readiness.

"Ugh!" grunted the chief, "no more coming. We go down and shoot em at em houses." Then the fiend divided his warriors into four companies, each one of which was a.s.signed a couple of murders. One party proceeded toward the house of Mr. Gowanlock. Creeping stealthily, they reached within forty yards of the dwelling without being perceived. Then Mrs. Gowanlock, a young woman, recently married, walked out of her abode, and gathering some kindling wood in her ap.r.o.n, returned again. When the Indians saw her, they threw themselves upon their faces, and so escaped observation. No one happened to be looking out of the window after Mrs. Gowanlock came back; but about half a minute afterwards several shadows flitted by the window, and immediately six or seven painted Indians, with rifles c.o.c.ked, and uttering diabolical yells, burst into the house.

The chief was with this party; and aiming his rifle, shot poor Gowanlock dead. Another aimed at a man named Gilchrist, but Mrs.

Gowanlock heroically seized the savage's arms from behind, and prevented him for a moment or two. But the vile murderer shook her off, and falling back a pace or two, fired at her, killing her instantly.

The York boat, with its brave little band, reached Battleford in safety, and the two handsome Indian boys pitched their tents aloof upon the prairie, about, a mile distant from the Fort, selecting a little cup shaped hollow, rimmed around with scrubby white oak. The horses fed in the centre, and at the edge of the bushes gleamed the white sides of the tent.

That evening, as the two entered the town, they perceived a tall Indian standing by the gate.

"It is Little Poplar," whispered Julie; and seeing the two maidens about the same time, the chief stepped forward.

"Cruel work," he said, "reported from Frog Lake. Captain Stephens and two others were sent an hour ago with fast horses to enquire if the story is true. But he had not long pa.s.sed this gate when I noticed Jean, the great chief's man, and a dozen of the Stoney Crees ride after him. I am sure that they are plotting him harm."

"What route did they take?" asked Annette, while her eyes grew large and bright.

"They went upon the muskeg trail. It leads directly to Frog Lake."

"Thank you again, chief; I go immediately." Julie likewise turned about.

"Nay, you must not encounter this peril with me; already you have ventured more than I should have permitted;" but a look of sorrowful reproach came into the little maiden's eye.

"Is Julie of no use, that her mistress will not consent for her to come? Did the faithful follower not say in the beginning that wherever her mistress went, there she would go? that the dangers of the mistress should be borne also by the maid?"

"Well, since you wish to come, dear girl, I will not gainsay you.

But what thinks your chief about his darling courting all these dangers?"

"Little Poplar," the Indian replied, "is proud to see his sweetheart brave; and if she were not so brave, he could not love her half so much." And stooping, the n.o.ble chief kissed and kissed the maiden's forehead; and then, once, and very tenderly, her two red lips.

The pair now swiftly returned to the hollow, once again folded the tent, closed their hamper, saddled the horses, and struck out swiftly for the trail. They had practised eyes, and were soon convinced that both parties had gone by this route. Their horses were fairly fresh and they pushed on at high speed.

Their course lay over a long stretch of sodden marshes, brown with the russet of Indian pipes and the bronze of their leaf.a.ge. Here and there a dry ridge lifted itself lazily out of the spongy flat, and afforded solid, buoyant footing. But a dull gray began to fall upon the plains. It was fog and they knew that less than half an hour of clear skies, and the sight of landscape, remained to them. So they sped on, now sinking deep in a ma.s.s of sodden liverwort, glistening in the most exquisite of green, again treading down a tangle of luscious, pale-yellow "bake-apples." The huge, noiseless ma.s.s soon reached the swampy plain; and it rolled as if upon wheels of floss, shutting out the sun and smothering the bluffs. The gloom was now so great that they could not see more than twenty paces on any hand, and every object in view seemed many times greater than its natural size, and distorted in shape. Miles and miles they went through swamp and tangle, till they heard the far-off, sullen roar of water. The land now also began to dip, and fifteen minutes' ride brought them to a low-lying region of swamp, sentinelled with dismal larches. Close at hand they heard the moaning of a slow stream; beyond was the m.u.f.fled thunder of some tremendous waterfall. They were soon convinced that they were on the confines of the Styx River, a dreary, forbidding stream of ink-black water which wallowed through a larch swamp for many miles till it reached the face of a bold cliff down which its flood went booming with the sound of thunder. At every step now the horses sank almost to the knee; but as the trail was yet visible they pushed on, keeping close to the banks of the stream.

Beyond was a bluff of poplar and white oak, and as the riders pa.s.sed round it, the gleam of a camp-fire about a quarter of a mile distant shone through the trees.

"Hist; here they are. We shall go behind this clump and pitch our tent; then we can see how affairs stand."

The horses were corralled, the tent pitched, a fire lighted; and Julie was busy breaking branches for pillows. Annette prepared the supper.

"What is your next step, my ingenious hero mistress?"

"To steal up near the camp-fire and see to which party it belongs; or whether the worst has happened." Her fingers trembled a little as she ate; but her heart was as brave as a lion's.

"Take your pistol, Julie, and let us go." The night was pitchy dark, although the fog had rolled away; for the moon had not yet risen, and no light came from the few feeble stars that were out. Over swamp and tangle, across bare marsh, and through dense wood they went, lightly as a pair of fawns, till the warm, ruddy glare of the strange camp-fire shone on their faces.

"Lie you here," whispered Annette, "while I go forward." She was not absent many minutes, but when she returned her cheeks were pale and her voice quivered a little. "As I expected. Captain Stephens and his two companions are prisoners. He is lying upon the ground without any cover over him, and his hands are bound behind his back. I see only one other, and he is wounded;--the other must have been killed."