A DARING RESCUE.
When they awoke the sun was up, the mists had rolled out of the
hollow, and every bush and blade of grass glittered as if set in
diamonds. Hard by the tent ran a little brook, leaping, rushing,
eddying, gurgling, sparkling down the incline, to join the larger
stream whose slow moaning had sounded so terrible in the fog and dark.
"It is full of fish," gleefully exclaimed Julie; and casting a fly
(for they had not come without tackle), she soon landed a trout about
a pound weight. It was a blending of pink and silver on the belly,
and was mottled with dots of brown. "One apiece," she cried, as
another beauty curled and leaped upon the grass, by one of Annette's
deftly booted little feet.
The kit supplied two or three flat pans that could be stowed
conveniently; and into one of these the fish were put.
"Now, Julie, while you prepare the breakfast, I shall go and take a
look at how things stand in the next camp."
She crept noiselessly through bush and brake, and perceived the band
just making ready for a start. Captain Stephens was put upon a horse
in the centre of the cavalcade, and his companion, pale and
blood-stained, rode next behind.
Annette and Julie cautiously followed, drawing close to the party
when it rode through the bush, but keeping far in the rear when the
course lay over the plain. Towards the set of sun, they observed a
horseman about a mile behind them, riding at high speed. They waited
till the man drew near, and perceived that he was a Cree Indian.
"Message from Little Poplar," the brave said, as he reined in his
splashed and foam-flecked pony, "The Great Chief rages against
mademoiselle, and has braves searching for her through every part of
the territory." Producing a paper, he handed it to Annette. Upon it
were written in bold letters the following:
PROCLAMATION.
Any one bringing to my presence a young person, disguised as a Cree
spy, and riding a large gray mare, will receive a reward of $500.
This spy and traitor is usually accompanied by another person of
smaller stature, and also disguised as a Cree boy. Rides a black
gelding. These traitors have heard our secret counsels as friends,
and have gone and disclosed our plans to the enemy. They gave warning
of our approach to a band of government officers; they procured the
escape of the oppressors from Fort Pitt; and they turned away Big
Bear and his braves from pursuit of the fugitives, by lies. Our first
duty is to capture them. No injury is to be done to the chief
offender, who is to be immediately brought to my presence.
LOUIS DAVID RIEL.
"Tell your brave chief, mon ami," Annette said, "that we shall take
care to avoid the followers of le grand chef, and of unfriendly
Indians."
The Indian turned his pony, and was about retracing his steps, when
Julie rode up to him, and in her exquisitely timid little way, said
in a soft voice,
"Faites mes amities a monsieur, votre chef." The Indian replied,
"Oui, oui," and urged his pony to the height of its speed. When Julie
joined her mistress there was a little rose in each cheek, and a
gleam in her faintly humid eye.
"Sending a message to her chief?" Annette said, looking at the
bright, brown beauty. "She need not have blushed at giving her
message to the brave; he thought that she was an Indian lad."
"Oh, I forgot," Julie murmured; and she pressed her deftly booted
feet against the flanks of her pony.
The savage was, evidently, not enamoured of the lonesome journey
back to his chief, for rumour had peopled every square mile of all
the plains with warriors, and with hidden assassins. And spread
across that arc of the sky where the sun had just gone down, were
troops of clouds, of crimson, and bronze and pink; and in their
curious shapes the solitary rider saw mighty horses, bestrode by
giant riders, all congregated to join in the war. He knew that these
were the spirits of chiefs who had ruled the plains long before the
stranger with the pale face came; they always assembled when great
battles were to be fought; and when their brothers began to lose
heart in the fray, they would descend from the clouds and give to
each warrior the heart of the lion, and the arm of the jaguar.
His heart swelled with a wild war-fever as these thoughts passed
through his brain. Then the darkness began to creep over the plains;
it came softly and as remorselessly as the prairie panther; and a
fear grew upon the savage. The horsemen in the sky had come nearer to
the earth; some of them had trooped across through the dusk, till
they stood directly above his head; and he fancied that several of
the figures had lowered themselves down till they almost touched him.
In the deepening dusk he could not observe what they were doing. They
at last actually reached the earth;--and three giants stood before
his horse.
"Mon Dieu," shrieked the terrified creature, and his hand lost
control over the reins. His pony did not heed the spectres, but
walked straight on. Nay, he passed so close to one of the dread
things that the Indian's arm brushed the goblin. Its touch was hard.
The man shrieked, and in a terror that stopped the beating of his
heart fell to the ground. When he arose, he found that the spectre
was not from the sky; but only a tall prairie poplar.
Pray, readers, do not laugh at the unreasonable terror of this
untutored savage. I have seen some of yourselves just as unreasonable.
While the Indian was suffering the sunset clouds to fill him, now
with enthusiasm, and again with dread, Annette and Julie were keeping
their ponies at their fleetest pace to regain sight of the party.
"Do you know, Julie, I feel a presentiment that an opportunity for
the rescue will come to-night. The captors will not dream of pursuit
so far from the frequented grounds and known trails, and they will be
off their guard. See! yonder they camp;" and while she was yet
speaking, a pyramid of scarlet flame, scattering showers of sparks,
shot up from a recess in the bluff lying directly before them.
"Rein in, Julie, we must find a bluff a safe distance off for our
horses. Should they get scent or sight of the ponies in yonder camp,
and whinny, all would be lost."
So swerving to the left, and taking a course at right angles to
their late one, they rode slowly and silently till a bluff rose from
the prairie, a short distance in front, like a hill.
"We shall tether our horses here, Julie; but I believe our stay will
not be a long one." And the pair dismounted, tied their tired beasts,
and swiftly raised the white sides of their tent.
"Ee-e-e-e!" it was Julie who gave the shriek. The thicket was
swarming with soft, noiseless wings, and a bird with burning eyes had
brushed the face of the maiden with its pinion. "What is it, ma
maitresse? It has two bright eyes, and it touched my face. Ee-e-e. O!
There it is again."
"What is the matter, Julie? Do you want to bring Jean and his
Indians here, with this pretty screaming of yours?"
"But it brushed me in the face twice, mademoiselle."
"These are only night hawks, Julie; they gather sometimes like this
in our own poplar-grove."
"O-o that's what it was? Pardonnez-moi. What a simpleton I am, my
mistress. Do you think they heard me?" and her sweet voice was now so
low, that the locust, dozing among the spray of the golden-rod, could
scarcely have heard her tones. The thicket was literally swarming
with these noiseless birds; and wondering they flew round and round
the figures of the intruders, but most of all did they marvel at the
great mound of white that had been raised amongst them. Some of them,
in alarm, rose high above the bluff, wheeling and darting hither and
thither, and the girls could hear their c-h-u-n-g as if some hand,
high up in the air, had smote the bass chord of a violoncello. But
when the flame from the camp fire arose, terror seized every
feathered thing in the bluff, and they all flew, in wild haste, away
from the bewildering light.
Annette was now away wandering through the grove, gathering dry and
fallen limbs for the fire; and as Julie bustled about through the
long prairie grass, preparing the meal, she was startled with a
little cry.
"Mon Dieu, what is it?" Julie hastened away to her mistress, her
bright eyes widened and gleaming with alarm.
"What has happened my mistress?"
"Oh! is that all it is? Why Julie, I am just as silly as you are. I
stooped to pick up what I thought a little bramble, but when I laid
my hand upon it, it moved; and then went under the ground. It was a
gopher. I am now rebuked for chiding the fears of my little maid."
"But anybody would scream at touching a live thing like that on the
ground. It was foolish, though, to be frightened at a bird."
Generous, sweet little Julie!
They now busied themselves with their supper, brewing some tea in a
shallow pan; and when they had spread their store of provisions they
sat down by the side of the fire, and ate their meal of home-made
bread and cold meat. It would have gladdened the heart of the most
withered monk to see those two healthy, plump little maidens in the
flickering fire light, their garments loosened, their eyes glowing,
their cheeks and lips in hue like the cherry, eating slice after
slice of bread and meat, and draining cup after cup of the fragrant
tea.
"Now Julie," Annette said rising, after the precious maiden had
eaten enough to make some miserable philosopher ill for a week of
dyspepsia, "I shall creep out and make a reconnaissance." And
buckling on her belt, with its large bright-bladed knife, and her
ready revolver, she went away softly and cunning as a cat. The very
field-mouse could have known nothing of her coming till her sweet
foot was upon its head: and when she came in sight of the hostile
camp fire with the dull scarlet glow that the mass of dying embers
threw out, she stooped so low that a spectator near by would have
imagined that the dark thing moving across the level was a prairie
dog.
At last she was at the very edge of the bluff, and was peering
between the branches at the party, about the flight of an arrow
within. Captain Stephens was there, full in the light, his arms and
legs fast bound, and tied to a sturdy white oak tree. Near a poplar,
a few paces distant, lay his comrade, likewise bound and fastened to
a tree. Most of the Indians were asleep; the remainder lolled about,
showing no evidence of keeping vigil. Jean she could not perceive;
and she believed, and was no doubt right, that he was sleeping.
"It is well," the maiden ejaculated in a little whisper; and she
returned swiftly and noiselessly as a shadow to her own camp fire.
"Most of them sleep; and presently there will not be an open eye
among the braves. Ah, Julie, if you but saw how they have _him_
bound--both of the captives, I mean." And her eyes flashed, while her
hand made a little blind, convulsive motion toward her pistol. "We
have no time now to waste; help me to pack." In the space of a few
minutes everything was ready for a start, and the horses led away to
another bluff which loomed up about five hundred yards distant. Julie
could not divine the reason for this precaution, but Annette
whispered,
"Child, the light of our fire might, at the first moment of flight
lead to recapture, should any of my plans fail; and it would take us
a half an hour to extinguish the embers by fetching water in our
little pans."
Yes, Julie saw a little of what her mistress was aiming at; and
reposed perfect trust in Annette's ability to do everything with
skill and success. The beasts were tethered, and dark as was that
prairie night, these two girls with skill as unerring as the instinct
of a pair of night-hawks could come back and find them. Then they
struck out through the long grass, and made for the bluff where lay
the Stonies and their prisoners.
"Now, if we can find their ponies!" Annette said.
"Wherefore look for their ponies, mademoiselle?"
"You soon shall see. Ah, here they are; stay you there, Julie, I
will come to you again presently." But Julie followed her mistress. A
little shudder passed through her heart as she saw the dull glitter
of something in her mistress' hand.
"I don't like to do this cruel thing; but then I spill only brute
blood; and I do so to save the shedding of human blood." Julie now
surmised what her mistress was about; and drew her own knife. Annette
had already passed from one of the ponies, after pausing for a few
seconds stooped by its hinder legs, to another; and with the knife
still gleaming in her hand, performed upon the second beast what she
had done to the first.
"You just cut the tendons of the hinder legs, I suppose,
mademoiselle?" Julie enquired in a whisper.
"What, are you at work too, Julie?"
"Oui mademoiselle; I have cut yonder one, and yon;" and she darted
away to continue the work of mutilation. In a few minutes the uncanny
task was ended, and with a shudder at their hearts the girls wiped
their knives and led away from the flock of lamed and bleeding beasts
the horses of Captain Stephens and his brother captive. These they
tethered beside their own, and again returned. They then proceeded
with noiseless tread towards the hostile camp.
The fire had burnt lower, but the glow was still strong enough to
reveal the condition of the camp. After Annette had counted every
Indian, and convinced herself that one and all were soundly sleeping,
and that Jean in his tent was the deepest slumberer of all, she
whispered softly.
"Remain you here, Julie. Should I be discovered fly instantly and
take horse. Don't tarry for me. Peace, ma petite amie; I go."
And softly as sleep she went away, and in among the trees till she
stood within a pace of where her deliverer lay. He had been on the
border land that divides the world from the realm of dreams; but
through the wavering senses of his eye and ear, he was sensible of
the faintest stir among the leaves, of a shadow moving near him.
Instantly his eyes were wide open; and the dull glow of the embers
revealed standing above him with his finger on his lips, the figure
of the beautiful Indian boy who had saved his life before. The next
moment, the boy is leaning over him; in another moment his bonds are
severed, and he is free.
"Go," whispered the boy, pointing toward the bluff; "no noise."
These words were as low and as fine as the little whisper that you
hear among the leaves of the alder when a faint wind comes out of the
west on a summer's evening and moves them. And while he yet remained
bewildered by the suddenness of the boy's appearance, his own
deliverance, and the order that had been given to him, he perceived
the lad stooping over his companion in captivity, and severing the
thongs that bound him. Stephens now moved hastily away a short
distance, and then turned. The captive was upon his feet, and his
deliverer was beside him; but at the same moment he saw a tall savage
bound to his feet, with hatchet uplifted, and make towards the two.
At the same time he uttered the fierce alarum-yell of the Stoney
tribe.
"Fly!" shouted the Indian boy to the white. "Away!" and then he
turned to face the approaching foe. The savage came on, and when, as
it seemed to Stephens, his hatchet was about to cleave the boy's
skull, there was a pistol report, and the Indian fell with a
convulsive toss of his arms. This was accomplished in the space of a
couple of heart-beats; but the time was long enough to bring Jean and
the entire party to their feet.
"Fly!" repeated the Indian boy, and he bounded swiftly out of the
bluff, joining Stephens, his companion and Julie, who all four now
led off across the dark prairie towards the horses.
"Ought we not get our horses," Stephens enquired in a low hurried
tone, for the noise of the pursuit from the camp was close, and
tumultuous as a broken bedlam.
"You will get your horses, Monsieur," Annette replied, and Captain
Stephens implicitly relied upon the word of the beautiful youth. The
grass upon the prairie was thick and high, and in some places lay in
heavy tangles, making slow the progress of the refugees; but they
were able to keep their distance ahead of the Indians, who with
flaring flambeaux were following their trail like bloodhounds. Out of
the darkness came a series of sharp whinnies, and the next moment
they found themselves among the horses. The beasts were ready for
mounting, and without delay or bungle, the party were instantly in
the saddles and cantering briskly across the prairie. As they rode
along cries of baffled rage came to their ears; and they knew that
the Indians had discovered the plight of their ponies.
But when they had ridden beyond the sound of the enemies' voices,
they slacked their pace, and Captain Stephens said,
"Brave lad, is it your intention to ride all night?"
"No, Monsieur; I purpose resting at the first suitable place, till
moon-rise. It is not safe for our horses' legs travelling among the
gopher-burrows in the dark. At any rate Monsieur le Capitaine and his
companion must be hungry."
"During my captivity I have eaten nothing save a piece of an elk's
heart raw; and I do not believe that Phillips has taken anything."
The truth is that Phillips had been severely wounded; and besides
several shot wounds in his side, his left arm was at this moment in a
sling, having been nigh severed from his body with a hatchet blow.
"No, I have not eaten; and I think it was as well while the fever of
my wounds was upon me."
"But," continued Captain Stephens, "I am most anxious to rest that I
may hear how came you, my brave lad, and your heroic companion, to
get knowledge of our capture; how it is that fate seems to have
singled you out to be my constant guardian-angel and deliverer. I
trust that you will not refuse the explanations as you did on a
former occasion. A man who has been thrice rescued from probable
death, has good excuse for seeking to know all about the person who
has delivered him."
"I would much rather that Monsieur did not press me upon the point,"
the boy replied in a low voice.
"But I will, my heroic lad. I believe that we met somewhere before
under different circumstances; for several times I have noticed a
familiar accent in your voice."
"It is only a delusion, Monsieur," she replied in the same low tone.
"But, here is a bluff wherein we shall be likely to find some place
to rest for a little;" and turning her horse, she led the way along a
grassy lane which seemed, in the night, as regular as if it had been
fashioned with human hands. As she halted and while her hand lay upon
her horse's neck, she said:
"I have a tent which I regret I cannot offer to share with you; but
we can prepare a comfortable supper upon the grass; and you can rest
cosily in the warmth of the fire." With these words she dismounted.
In a few minutes the white of the tent loomed through the dusk; and
presently a fire was roaring and scattering about a spray of scarlet
sparks.
Annette had some moments with Julie in the tent, while Stephens was
busy making a comfortable resting-place for his wounded companion.
"Julie, I cannot longer keep this secret; when we have eaten, I
shall tell him. But oh! I think it will nearly kill me to do it. I am
so ashamed; our dress, you know, Julie." And by the dull glimmer of
the camp-fire Julie could see that her mistress' face was like a
freshly-blown carnation.
"I would not mind telling mon chef, ma maitresse; Monsieur Stephens
will prize you all the more for your bravery. And then it is so
becoming;" and this sweetest of maids looked admiringly at the
exquisite curves and grace of outline in her mistress. And she came
to her softly as a mouse, taking the still blushing face into her
brown hands, and looking lovingly into the luminous eyes.
"Ah Julie, your chief, or our own Metis, might admire us in this
costume, but the ladies of Captain Stephens' acquaintance would
shrink from doing that in which we see naught amiss. He may think it
indelicate and--." Once more the blood came stinging with a thousand
sharp points in her temples; but Julie interposed:
"Nay, mademoiselle; if you have done anything unlike what white
ladies do, it was for the sake of Captain Stephens; and if you did
not adopt disguise, you could not have saved him."
"True, sweet Julie; you fill me with courage;" and then she set
about preparing the meal.
Captain Stephens was amazed at the deftness with which the young
scout prepared the repast; and he lay upon the grass, with his eyes
rivetted upon the nimble, noiseless, graceful lad. It puzzled him
that the mysterious youth should persistently keep his head averted,
and he was the more strongly decided to discover his identity. When
the meal was ended Annette whispered,
"Julie will come with us; I never could tell him in the light of the
fire." Then turning towards Captain Stephens, with eyes looking
timidly down, "If monsieur will walk forth a little with me and mon
frere, I shall tell him something."
Certainly, he would go, and was upon his feet beside the mysterious
boy, whose colour had now become most fitful, changing from pale
olive to the dye of the damask rose. They went beyond the bluff, and
out upon the prairie, Stephens marvelling much, though speaking no
word, what the handsome boy had to say to him.
"Monsieur," she began in a soft, trembling voice, "has wondered who
I am, and thinks he has heard my voice before. He has heard it--at
the cottage of my father."
Captain Stephens turned around and gazed with amazement at the lad.
"He has heard it elsewhere, too," Annette went on--"he heard it on
the brimming river; he saved me from death below the chute."
"Heavens, Annette Marton! Sweet, generous, noble girl, why had I not
guessed the truth," and he stood rapt with gratitude and admiration
before her. Kindly dusk of the starless prairie that hid the blushes
and confusion of the girl!
Then in a low tone, as they walked aimlessly about upon the plain,
she told him the story of her adventures, all of which my reader
already knows. Then they returned; and when they neared the camp
fire, Annette with a shy little run disappeared into her tent,
murmuring softly,
"Au revoir, Monsieur."
Her dreams were bewildering, yet delicious, that night; but there
ran through them all a feeling of shame that he should have detected
her in those unwomanly clothes. Indeed, the embarrassment went
further than this; and once she imagined, the dear maiden, that she
was by the edge of an amber-green pool fringed with rowan bushes and
their vermillion berries, and that as she was about to step into it
for a bath, there occurred what happened in the case of Artemis and
her maids, the one upon whom her heart was set taking the place of
Actaon. She gave a great scream and awoke, to find Julie sitting up
and looking with wide affrighted eyes through the dusk at her
mistress.
"Oh, I had such a horrid dream, Julie," and nestling her head upon
the bosom of her maid, she was soon asleep and wandering again in
spirit with her lover through the prairie flowers.
They were astir early in the morning, and Annette, as was the habit
of the Metis women, had about her shoulders a blanket of Indian red
and Prussian blue. [Footnote: It is customary for Metis women, even
the most coquettish and pretty of them, to wear blankets; and the
hideous "fashion" is the chief barbaric trait which they inherit from
their wild ancestry. Annette, of course, donned the robe under a
mental protest. E.C.] Captain Stephens had gone abroad upon the
prairie in the morning, and with his pistol shot a pair of chickens.
These he handed to Annette as he returned, saying,
"Here my little hero deliverer; and take this, too," handing her a
tiger lily, moist with dew. "Now, in what way can I assist the Cree
boy who has twice saved my life?" and he looked wistfully into the
eyes of the brown maiden.
"If monsieur will just sit there upon the grass, petite and myself
will get the meal;" and straightway she began to pluck and prepare
the chickens which Stephens had given her. The sun burned through the
cobalt blue of the prairie sky, and there was not anywhere in the
great, blue dome an atom of cloud. The sun and the rays from the fire
combined made the heat unbearable, and Annette with no little
confusion laid by her blanket. Perceiving her discomfiture, Stephens
arose and wandered about the prairie, picking flowers; and only
returned in obedience to the call of Julie's little silver whistle.
Very soon, the party was in motion along the trail, Annette leading,
Captain Stephens riding in rear beside Phillips, who was again
feverish with his wounds.
They rode till the post meridian sun became too warm, and then
obtaining shelter in a bluff, they lunched and rested for several
hours. They then resumed their march and continued it till the set of
sun. During the day Stephens rode frequently by the side of Annette,
but she invariably made her horse mend its pace, and rode alone.
Despite his admiring glances, and his deep expressions of gratitude,
Stephens gradually began to resume his old playful manner of address.
He referred to her as "the little Cree boy," and in speaking of her
to Julie or Phillips, always used the word "he." Annette took no heed
of this; she led the party through mazes of woodland, across
stretches where there was no trail, or selected the camping-ground.
"The moon rises to-night about twelve, monsieur," she said to
Stephens when supper had been ended, "and we had better resume our
march then. There is a Cree village not far from here, and the braves
are everywhere abroad. I do not think that travelling by day would be
safe; for all the Indians must have read the proclamation."
About midnight a dusky yellow appeared in the south-east, and then
the luminous, greenish-yellow rim of the moon appeared and began to
flood the illimitable prairie with its wizard light.
"So this miscreant has been hunting you, Annette?" said Stephens,
for both had unconsciously dropped in rear. "I suppose, ma petite, if
I had the right to keep you from the fans of the water-mill, 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 one for the most
daring risk that man ever ran.
"You do not love this sooty persecutor, do you, ma chere?"--and
then, seeing that such a question filled her with pain and shame, he
said, "Hush now, petite; I shall not tease you any more." The
confusion passed away, and her olive face brightened, as does the
moon when the cloud drifts off its disc.
"I am very glad. Oh, if you only knew how I shudder at the sound of
his name!"
"There now, let us forget about him," and reining his horse closer
to hers, he leaned tenderly towards the girl. She said nothing, for
she was very much confused. But the confusion was less embarrassment
than a bewildered feeling of delight. Save for the dull thud, thud of
the hoofs upon the sod, her companion might plainly have heard the
riotous beating of the 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."
"Oh, 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--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 light that he was covering her with
confusion. Upon no point was this maiden so sensitive, as the
revelation that a habit or act of hers differed from that of the
civilized girl. Her dear heart was almost bursting with shame, and
this thought was running through her mind.
"What a savage I must seem in his eyes." Her own outspoken words
seemed to burn through her 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 [Footnote: 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 in the search for a flaw, that I send passages from
Tennyson floating through Annette'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 tawny little fingers, produce a true
sketch of a prairie tree-clump, upon a sheet of cartridge paper, or a
piece of birch rind. I am constrained to make this explanation
because the passage appeared in another book of mine and evoked
censure from one or two dismal wiseacres.--E.C.] came running through
her head:
"She went by dale, and she went by down,
With a single rose _in her hair_."
These gave her some relief, for she thought, after all, that he
might be only jesting. When the blood had gone from her forehead, she
turned towards her lover, who had been looking at her since speaking,
with 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 ancient
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 person 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
Annette, if some one for whom she cared just a little 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 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 when I gave you the
flower, where would you have pinned it?"
"Nobody has ever done so much for me as 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 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 naivete
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 fond of a 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 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 furnace. Well, supposing
that a flower is worn over the heart only to express love of this
sort, where would you, with full knowledge of this fact, have pinned
the blossom 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, if home, 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. 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 boyish, sunny raillery.
"Hallo! Petite, we are away, away in the rear. Set your horse 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
breeze bearing the scent of the myriad petals. After a sharp gallop
over about three miles of plain, they overtook the main body of the
escort, and all rode together through the glorious night, under the
calm, bountiful moon.
"When this journey is ended we shall rest for a few days at my
uncle's, my brave Cree," Stephens said. "Running through the grounds
is a little brook swarming with fish. Will you come fishing with me
there, petite?"
"Oui, avec grand plaisir, Monsieur."
"Of course, you shall fish with a pin-hook. I am not going to see
you catch yourself with a barbed hook, like that which I shall use."
"Oh, Monsieur! 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 the perfect
development of her young womanhood. "It is a woman, a perfect little
woman, a fairer, a sweeter, my own mignonnette, than any girl ever
seen in these plains in all their history."
"Oh, 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 its praises? As
easy, Annette, 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 was like
entrancing music in her veins; and gave her a delightful delirium
about the temples. How 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 absorbing her body and soul. Everything was
transfigured by a holy beauty, for Love had sanctified it, and
clothed it in his own mystic and beautiful 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
clangorous melody, and I have fancied that this delirious ecstacy of
sound that bathed the earth and went up to heaven was the voice of
one sweet girl with dimples and sea-green eyes.
The mischievous young Stephens had grown more serious than Annette
had ever seen him before.
"But, my little girl, what is to become of you during this period of
tumult. It may continue long, and it is hard to say what the chances
of war may have in store for your father."
"I know not; though my heart is with the cause of my father and of
his people, yet, I do not desire to see them triumph over your
people. A government under the hateful chief would be intolerable;
and whenever I can warn the white soldiers of danger, I shall do it."
"What a hero you are Annette! How different from what I supposed on
that day when I saw you sitting in your canoe in the midst of the
racing flood."
She was glad that Monsieur held what she had done in such high regard.
"Why dear girl, the story of your bravery will be told by the
writers of books throughout all Christendom. Ah, Annette, I shall be
so lonely when you go from me!"
Stephens 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.
But there was so much mischief in his nature that he would rebound
at any moment from a mood of pathos or seriousness to one of levity.
"Well, Annette," and he leaned yearningly towards her, "when you
leave me to take the chances of this tumultuous time, the greatest
light that I have known will have gone out of my life."
"When I am absent from Monsieur, perhaps he never thinks of me."
"What a little ingrate it is! Yesterday morning, while you were
getting breakfast, I was upon the prairie, doing--what think you?"
How was Annette to know?
"Well, I was making verses about ma petite. I was describing her
eyes, and her ears, and all her beautiful face."
"Oh, Monsieur!" and again came the blood to her face till her cheeks
rivalled the crimson dye of the vetch at their ponies' feat. Then in
a little,
"What did Monsieur say about my ears? They are like those of all the
Metis girls; and I do not think that they are as pretty as Julie's."
Then he replied with the lines,
"Shells of rosy pink and silver are most like her dainty ears;
Shells wherein the fisher maiden the sad Nereid's singing hears."
"Oh, indeed Monsieur, my ears are not at all beautiful like that;
indeed they're not." Then slightly changing her tone, "Perhaps le
capitaine made these about some white maiden whose ears _are_, like
that."
"What an ungrateful little creature it is!"
"No, but Monsieur cannot make me believe that my ears resemble
shells, coloured in pink and silver. In his heart he is comparing my
brown skin with the snow-white complexions of some of his Caucasian
girls, and thinking how horrid mine is."
"Why, you irreconcilable little wretch, it is your complexion that
most of all I adore. It is not 'brown;' who told you that it was? The
colour of your skin I described in these lines, though you do not
deserve that I should repeat them to you:"
"In the sunny, southern orchard fronting on some tawny beach,
Exquisite with silky softness hangs the downy silver peach; But as
dainty as the beauty of the bloom whereof I speak--Rain, nor sun, nor
frost can change it--is the bloom on Annette's cheek."
"Oh, monsieur! I do not know what to say, if you really made these
verses about me. If you did, they are not true; I am sure they are
not;" and her confusion was a most exquisite sight to see.
"But I have not described your eyes yet; here are the two lines that
I made about them:
"Annette's eyes are starlight mingled with the deepest dusk of
night;--
Eyes with lustre rich and glorious like some sweet, warm, southern
light."
"Oh, no, no, monsieur, they are not true; I don't want you to say
any more of them to me," and she put her hand over her face; for the
dear little one's embarrassment was very great.
"That is all I wrote about you; but I may write some more. You say,
petite, that they are not true. I confess that they are not--true
enough. Why, sweet, brave, and most lovely of girls, they fall far
short of showing your merits in the full. I have so far tried to
explain only what is beautiful in your face; but, darling, you have a
nobleness of soul that no language of mine could describe.
"I believe, my heroic love, that you have regarded yourself as a
mere plaything in my eyes. Why, ma chere, all of my heart you have
irrevocably. One of your dear hands is more precious 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 adore 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 from whom fate
severs me. And though the hours of absence will be dreary there will
lie beyond the darkest of them one hope which shall blaze like a star
through the night, and this is, that I shall soon be able to call my
Annette my own sweet bride. Now, my beloved, if that wished-for time
had come, and I were to say, 'Will you be mine, Annette,' what would
your answer be?"
"I did not think it was 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 Annette's pony, till the two animals stood close together.
Then he kissed the girl upon her dew-wet lips, murmuring low,
"My love!"
Later on, they were in sight of the spot where they must part, and
Phillips and Julie were awaiting them there. The light of the moon
was wan now upon the prairie, for the dawn was spreading in silver
across the eastern sky.
"My beloved must run no more risk, even for me," he said, leaning
tenderly towards her.
She would be prudent, but she would always for his sake warn his
friends of danger when she had knowledge of the same.
Again he breathed a low "Good-bye, my love," his eyes wistful,
mournful and tender; and with Phillips at his side, then rode down a
small gorge at the bottom of which were tangles of cedar and larch.
And as they rode suspecting naught of danger, several Indians hidden
in the draggled bush arose and stealthily followed them.