"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."]