DIVERS ADVENTURES FOR OUR HEROINE.
We left Annette and her little companion speeding along the banks of
the Saskatchewan bound for Pitt. They dare not come near the
stockades, for the Indians had invested the high ground overlooking
the Fort, and would be sure to make embarrassing enquiries of the two
strange Indian boys.
"My plan is this Julie," Annette said. "We shall camp in the valley
beyond Turtle Hill, and when it grows dark, we can come in and see
the state of affairs about the garrison."
"Oui Mademoiselle; and Tall Poplar is to be at the stockade facing
the river half an hour after sun-set. He said he would be there, in
case that we should in any way need his assistance."
"Bon, ma Julie. It seems to me that your fine chef may be of some
use to us before these troubles end."
Then the two dismounted, and tethering their horses set at work to
pitch their tent. Annette had brought a tent, strapped to her saddle,
from her aunt's; and the two sweet maidens opened out the folds, set
up the white cotton in a cleared plot, in the centre of a copse of
white oak, where it was securely screened from passing eyes. Julie
took from her pony's back a thick, large rug, which was to serve the
two for a coverlet; and going forth a short way the four little brown
hands busied themselves breaking soft branches from the trees.
"There," Annette said, as she put down her armful in the tent; "that
will make a pillow as cosy as a sack of mallard's down. Now, Julie,
we shall eat, then sleep till the afternoon; for I suspect that there
will be little rest for us while the sun is below the prairie."
Julie opened the hamper, and the winsome pair fell to, making a
hearty meal from home-made bread, cold quail, and butter with the
very perfume of the prairie flowers. A little way beyond a jet of
cold, clear water came gurgling out of the rocks; and tripping away
Julie fetched a cup. Then they fastened their hamper, put their
pistols by their side, laid themselves down together, and fell asleep
to the music of the little spring, and the bickering of gold finches
in the leaves.
When Annette awoke, it was the mellow afternoon, and the sun shone
like a great yellow shield low in the west. Annette stepped quietly
out, her dainty little feet hardly crushing the flowers as she went,
to take a peep at the horses. They, too, had lain down; but upon
seeing the pair of large, bright, peering eyes, they arose, stretched
themselves, whisked their tails, and began again feasting on the
crisp, luscious grass.
When the sun's upper rim lay like a little semi-circle of fire over
the far edge of the prairie, the two adventurers girded on their
belts, and taking their revolvers, started away like a pair of prying
fawns toward the Fort. Twilight does not tarry long upon the plains;
and when the maidens reached the confines of the Fort, the stockades
and the enclosed buildings were a mere dusky blur. Moving cautiously
along the side facing the river, they perceived a straight, tall
figure, awaiting them; and the handsome chief stepped up.
"I had been anxious, and was afraid for the safety of ma Julie and
Mademoiselle."
"Will they attack the Fort to-night?" Annette eagerly asked.
"This will be a bad night for the Fort. The braves have had a White
Dog feast; and the Indians have assembled from far and near to fight
for Big Bear. They attack in half an hour."
"Can they hold out inside?"
"Twenty-four men against five hundred!" the chief replied. "First
they will cut a breach in the stockade; then they will go in and burn
down the Fort. Big Bear has asked the Inspector to surrender, but he
has refused."
"What is to be done, good chief? I have in there a white friend who
saved my life; and I would like also to help the Inspector and his
followers."
The chief mused.
"My braves follow, and will be here before the first blow is struck.
Perhaps I shall be able, at the last moment, to meet the wishes of
Mademoiselle." Julie took two or three dainty steps, and nestled her
head in the breast of her lover. Again he stroked her hair, kissed
her bright face, and murmured sweet words in her little ear. Then he
said,
"I must go among the lodges, for if I am not present to join in the
counsels of the leaders, I may be suspected. Wait, Mademoiselle, in
the shelter of the bank till I come to you." There was then a little
sound like the explosion of a bubble, and Annette saw the chief raise
his head from Julie's face.
"You little rogue," she said, "how your love affairs profit by this
war." Then she tripped off to the point designated by the chief, and
lay down in the shadow with Julie at her side. It was while they lay
nestling here that the storm of yells described in another chapter
burst out. Annette shuddered and grasped the hand of her companion.
Then came the onslaught of musketry, the glare of flambeaux, and the
response from the besieged. Through the wailing of the storm came,
too, the thud, thud, thud of the choppers at the stockade, and the
straggling shots of the brave twenty-four in the Fort.
"The stockade cannot stand long," Annette whispered; "I wonder what
delays your chief?" But while the words were yet quivering upon her
lips, a figure moved swiftly towards them and whispered,
"Come." And when they joined him: "I only wish to have Mademoiselle
satisfied of the escape of her deliverer and of his friends."
In a minute they were at the edge of the stockade; and, at a signal
from the chief, a little postern opened, and they were admitted.
"Follow me," he said, as he advanced, waving a small white cloth,
and the two, close at his heels, found themselves at the door of the
Fort. "Friends are here," he whispered, through his tubed hand, to a
policeman who had been watching the advancing trio from his sentry
post; "let us enter."
The policeman retreated, and in a moment reappeared with the
Inspector and Captain Stephens at his side.
"Who are you?" asked the Inspector in a low voice.
"Friends." Then Annette said, in a distinct voice:
"Monsieur Stephens may remember me?"
"The Indian boy who warned me of my danger!" he exclaimed, turning
to the Inspector. "You may admit them." In a moment Tall Elk was
inside.
"I am a Cree chief, and twenty of my braves are friendly. When the
Indians break through the stockade I shall guard this door, and you
can pass out. Go directly to the river, and at the pier you will find
a boat waiting. Then the river is clear before you to Battleford."
Saying these words the chief was gone, the two Indian boys following
him.
At this moment a chorus of yelling, more infernal than any which had
been heard before, arose, and, brandishing their weapons, the horde
of infuriated savages began to pour through a large gap in the
stockade.
"Follow me, my men," whispered the Inspector, and with Stephens at
his side he descended into the yard where the smoke from burning
torches was so dense that the whole party passed through the group of
friendly braves without attracting the attention of the hostile
savages. They very speedily gained the river and found a large York
boat, of shallow draught, which they pushed out into the slow sweep
of tide. The chief was nowhere to be seen; but the two mysterious and
beautiful Indian boys hovered along the gloomy brink of the river,
frequently turning apprehensive eyes towards the Fort. As the boat
moved downward so did they, flitting along like a pair of guardian
angels. Immediately beside them they perceived a fierce-looking
Indian, glaring through the dark upon the water.
He had evidently just perceived the boat, for, uttering a loud
alarm-yell, he turned and was making off toward the Fort to give
the tidings.
"Stop," shouted Annette, in clear, thrilling Cree.
The savage stood a moment, and glared at this handsome lad of his
tribe.
"If you move a step I shoot you. Drop to the ground."
The Indian stood irresolute, but the girl made a sudden bound
forward and held the glittering barrel of her revolver in his face.
"You are a Cree?" he inquired, in a voice quivering with an odd
mixture of fear and rage.
"I am."
"Why don't you let me alarm the braves? The police are escaping."
"The Cree boy will not give his reasons; but his brother must obey."
The Indian stood looking upon Annette as if endeavouring to scan her
features; and as if to help him in his object, a flash of flame from
a burning building in the Fort shone for a moment upon the boy, and
showed the cowardly warrior a pair of large, soft eyes, fringed with
long lashes; a sweet oval face, and a delicate little hand. The
sudden observation seemed to fill him with contempt and courage, and
turning he bounded away with another wild yell.
Annette did not lower her arm, but she shut one of her eyes and
fired, once, twice at the running savage. Up went the wretch's arms
and he fell upon the plain.
"Let us away Julie, the shots may bring some stragglers," and the
two girls bounded along for nearly half a mile, when they were again
in line with the barge.
"Boat ahoy," shouted Annette. "When you near the first island keep
away to your right. There is a bar with sharp rocks in your way." A
low musical,
"Merci mon petit ami" came to the shore; and Annette whispered:
"It is Monsieur Stephens who gives me thanks." Then straightening
herself up, "It is time we got our horses; come." They hastened away
to the little grove, folded the tent, saddled the horses, and in a
few moments were galloping again towards the river. As they neared
the bank they heard a tempest of yelling up the plain toward the
Fort: and after listening for a moment, Annette said,
"The savages have discovered the flight, and they are now in
pursuit. Can you speak much Cree, Julie?"
"Not much."
"Well, then you are to be my brother and a dummy; for I must meet
the Indians."
"Mademoiselle must not put herself in danger. The Indians may know
that you fired at the brave; perhaps he has given the alarm."
"Fear not, Julie. That poor savage has told no tales. But Monsieur
Stephens must be saved, and if this band is not checked, both he and
his friends are doomed. Half a mile below there are a hundred canoes
upon the bank, and thither those screaming fiends are bound. Now,
follow me, unless you care to ride back again to the hollow. I will
impose no duty upon you except to remain dumb."
Then she struck her heels into her horse and rode full for the
yelling band. As she drew near she raised her hand and shouted in
perfect and musical Cree.
"Let the braves stand and hear their brother."
Big Bear who was leading, surrounded by two or three of his wives,
stopped, and shouted to his braves to be still.
"What has our little brother to say?"
"Myself and my dumb brother have just escaped a great army of
soldiers at Souris Creek."
The chief's eyes became blank with fright.
"Where were the white braves going?"
"Marching for Fort Pitt; and they will be here in fifteen minutes,
for they are mounted on swift horses. If you go down to fight yonder
boat, you will be attacked in rear."
"The boy speaks well," muttered the chief to his prettiest wife who
was standing by his side; and that dainty Cree was feasting her eyes
upon the beautiful face of the Indian lad. It might not have been so
well for Annette had the chief seen the way in which his young wife
stared at the little Indian scout.
"My braves will turn back," shouted Big Bear, "and when we get to
the lodges we will hold a council. The little Cree brave and his dumb
brother will come to o tents."
"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 shivering in the veins
of persons throughout the continent; and one horrible circumstance,
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 brandishing 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 bloody 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 space 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 assured that
several had already gone up to the pow-wow, so being brave and
unselfish, he said,
"If there is any danger afoot, and my friends are at the meeting
lodge, that is the place for me, not here." He had no sooner entered
than his worst convictions were realized. With one quick glance he
saw the bloodpools, the wolfish eyes, the rows of ready rifles.
"Hell hounds!" he cried, "what bloody work have you on hand? What
means this?" pointing to the floor.
"It means," replied the chief, "that some of your 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 passed, and no other rap
came upon the door. An hour went, and still no sound of foot-fall.
All this while the savages sat mute as stones, each holding his 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 assigned 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 apron, 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 cocked, and uttering diabolical yells, burst into the house.
The chief was with this party; and aiming his rifle, shot poor
Gowanlock dead. Another aimed at 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 passed 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 noble 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 leafage. 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 mass of sodden liverwort, glistening
in the most exquisite of green, again treading down a tangle of
luscious, pale-yellow "bake-apples." The huge, noiseless mass 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 muffled
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 passed
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."
"But there is no use in waiting here to-night. The band is divided
into watches; and one division has lain down to sleep. From some
words that I heard one of the braves say I judge that they will carry
the prisoners to Beaver Mountain, where there is a Cree stronghold.
Here they will be held to abide the will of le chef. The march will
last at least three days. But as they advance they will grow less
cautious; then we may be able to accomplish something. Come, let us
get back to our tent."
Stretching themselves upon the fresh, fragrant boughs, they drew the
rug over their two sweet, tired bodies, and fell into a restoring
sleep.