A FIGHT; A CAPTURE; AND THE GUARDIAN SWAN.
ANNETTE with a tear in the corner of each eye, and Julie at her
side, rode on till the two came within sight of the shining waters of
the indolent Saskatchewan. As they rode leisurely along its banks,
Annette, now sighing and now Julie, they heard the trample of hoofs,
and turning saw approaching an Indian chief, well mounted.
"Ah, your chef, ma petite," Annette said, looking at Julie.
But Julie was well aware who the fast riding stranger was; and she
was covered with the most becoming of blushes when her lover drew
rein beside them.
"No time; Indians in pursuit of you. I said I would come ahead of
braves to keep watch upon your movements. Ride to the south, and
unless you find good bluffs to the east, don't rest till you reach
Souris." And he was about to go; but Julie, who had quietly managed
to so work her left heel as to make her horse perform a right pass
till its side touched that of the chief's pony, turned towards him,
her face having the expression of a large note of interrogation,
which if put in words would say, Are you going away without giving
your Julie a kiss? while her lips would remind you of the half-opened
rose that awaits the hovering shower.
The chief may have interpreted the mute and delicious appeal, but he
was too full of alarm to accept the invitation, even though he could
have conquered his sense of delicacy enough to do it before Annette.
"There now, I must be away, he said; and you must be off too." Julie
put down her head till her chin touched her bosom; but she turned her
dusky eyes up towards her lover with irresistible effect, as she said,
"Won't you before you go? Ma maitresse will not mind." It is not in
the nature of man, even before the cannon's mouth, to resist such an
appeal as there was upon the half-pouting, half-yearning lips of that
Metis girl. He stooped suddenly, kissed her once, twice, thrice, and
then was away.
Annette and Julie at the same moment turned their horses, and rode
at a swift pace along the Saskatchewan; but they had barely started
when a shower of fierce yells came to them, and turning in their
saddles they saw a band of painted savages not more than five hundred
paces distant, mounted on fleet ponies, and making for them at high
speed. As for Julie's chief there was nothing to be seen of him.
"Where can the chief have gone, ma maitresse? Will the braves not
know that he has played them false? Oh it was so selfish not to think
of him;" and she turned again in her saddle, and once more scanned
the plains for sight of her lover.
"Julie need not fear for the chief. He is very likely in that
cottonwood bluff near where we parted."
"He could hide safely there, think you mademoiselle?" and she gave
her reins a joyous fling. Then in an altered tone, "But he must think
me indifferent, that I did not ask him how he was to conceal from the
braves knowledge of what he had done."
"There is not much fear that he will think petite indifferent,"
Annette replied in a playful tone. "A sweet girl that asks a lover to
kiss her is not _indifferent_."
"Oh, there now, mademoiselle; please don't! Oh, it was such a
dreadful thing for me to do. Perhaps he will not like me for it;" and
this wretched darling was the colour of a new-blown poppy.
"Why, Julie, they are closing upon us," Annette exclaimed, as she
turned to look at the pursuers. "Their ponies are fresh, and our
horses cannot keep up a long run, I fear. Spur on, Julie," and the
girls put their horses at the top of their speed.
"There, we are holding our distance now Julie; and I think gaining a
little," she added after a few moments. "See, some of their ponies
are falling out of the chase," and a glance revealed four savages now
several hundred yards in advance of the main body which were
evidently unwilling to join further in the pursuit.
"These four Julie, must in the end overtake us. Note their lithe,
large ponies, and what a buoyant spring they have."
"How soon, mademoiselle, will they catch us? and what will we do
then?"
"You must not ask two questions at once, Julie. I mean, you must not
get frightened. As to the first question,"--the sentences were now
and again broken by the swift galloping--"they will catch us probably
in half an hour."
"Oh, goodness," Julie said.
"As to the second, we must fight them."
"Mon Dieu, they will kill us mademoiselle."
"Perhaps; but they will have to try hard. See yon valley with the
tangles of bush?"
"Oui, mademoiselle."
"I know that valley. Was there once with mon pere. Unless they keep
directly upon our trait, I shall lead them into a pretty mess."
Altering her course, suddenly, for a bluff intervened and hid the
movements of the girls from the savages, Annette followed by Julie
made rapidly for the bottom of the valley, crossing through a belt of
straggling cedar and larches, and then held her way along the skirt
of the opposite ridge.
Faint, far-off yells told the girls that they had been again
discovered, but they had the consolation of knowing that their
pursuers must have lost almost a quarter of a mile. But the best part
of the matter was that, as Annette had expected and planned, the
Indians descended into the valley at a point much higher than that
chosen by the pursued. They knew not of the stretch of quaking,
treacherous bog, with its population of designing beaver; indeed,
they would be certain to be lured by the bright, glittering green of
the liverwort that clad the level where the ground was most
unsubstantial.
Although I am not certain as to the prevalence of this weed in the
swampy places of the North-West, I can affirm that I have scarcely
ever seen a very dangerous quagmire that has not been covered with
this exquisite little plant; and if I could credit the stories of the
nursery, I would be able to believe that those malignant fairies who
live about dangerous springs and shaking swamps, cover the ground
with these dainty sprays of green to lure men to their destruction.
Perhaps the fairies were as interested in the fortunes of Annette and
Julie as, at my heart, I am; and that they decked this swamp in its
cover of glistering green to hide the death beneath.
Well, whether the fairies did this thing or not, the savages were
taking such a course that, in order to regain the trail of the
fugitives, they must cross some portion of the treacherous bog.
Annette's eye was upon their movements now.
"Pull rein, Julie;" and both brought their horses to a standstill.
"Well, ma maitresse, what now?" and the pet's hands trembled, and
the roses were out of her cheek.
"See; they near the swamp, and will be able, after a struggle, to
get through it. Now, Julie, I wish to ride down when they get fairly
in the toils; but I would prefer that you should go in the direction
we were pursuing. If everything is right, I shall soon overtake you."
"Oh, I go with ma chere maitresse, to do whatever she does."
"Brava, Julie; I do not think we have much to fear. Ha, they are in
the toils. In fifteen minutes they will be out. Let us away." While
she guided her horse with her bridle hand, Julie perceived her
unbutton her holster pipe, and seize and cock a Colt's revolver.
"I have one, too," muttered Julie; "so I guess I'll do the same
thing." Not a bit of cowardice did the sweet exhibit now.
They were now within a hundred paces of that portion of the swamp
wherein the braves were tangled. And if ever savages, or anything
else, were in a mess, these painted warriors now were. They had
reached the centre of the bog, and were floundering in it up to their
horses' bellies. Their excitement was so intense that they had eyes
for no other place than the spot where their horses floundered and
writhed; and did not notice the approach of the fugitives. Nay, the
two had reached the very edge of the quagmire before the Indians
noticed the Cree boys. The yell that then went up from their throats
was most comical.
Annette's arm was extended, and her revolver was pointed at the
nearest savage; seeing which, Julie drew hers, and covered the next
brave. But before she had the lid over her left eye, Annette had
fired, and fired to effect, for the brave had gone over upon his
back, and sprawled and splashed among the liverwort and the bog.
Julie next fired, and when she saw, as the result of her shot, the
arm of the savage hang useless at his side, she cried--
"Bon, bon!" and cocked her pistol again.
"We must wing them, Julie," Annette said, who had her arm extended
once again. "I don't like to kill the wretches." Then came a voice
crying from the swamp, in dismal Cree--
"Don't fire any more; we won't follow the little scouts. We swear it
by the Sun, and by the God of Thunder;" and laying his hand upon his
hatchet, the terrified wretch faced the Sun and swore the oath: then
turning towards the clouds wherein the Thunder God resides, he
repeated his avowal with the same forms and solemnity of gesture.
Still Annette kept her arm extended.
"The braves talk with forked tongues, and we do not believe them,"
she replied, in the Cree language.
"But we have sworn it," the miserable savage replied, in a doleful
voice.
"False men, swearing by false gods!" Annette replied. "No; we will
not trust them. But let the braves listen. We do not want to kill
them, and have decided to wing them instead."
"Oh, oh!" groaned the poor red-skins.
"There is no time to lose; the braves must not hide behind their
ponies in that way, or we shall be obliged to fire at their bodies
and kill them. They must come out so that we can shoot them in the
legs."
The reader who has reached this point will likely say, "Well, Mr.
Author, you are a bright individual. Why did not the Indians fire?"
The truth is, they had no firearms, being supplied only with hatchets
and spears; and they were not aware that the scouts had pistols.
"But we have nothing more to fear from them, mademoiselle," Julie
said, "wherefore need we fire at them?"
"Nor do I intend to do so, Julie; I am only bent now on so
frightening them that they will no more attempt pursuit. Moreover, I
am anxious that they shall convey tidings of our bloodthirstiness
among all the tribes; for when such rumour obtains circulation, we
shall be harassed less by pursuit."
"C'est bien, ma maitresse; c'est bien."
"No more delay," shouted Annette. "Let the two braves stand up," But
each one lay close under the lee of a struggling horse, holding the
animal fast by the head, in order to keep him sure in the swamp.
"Put you up your pistol, Julie; leave this work to me." And once
more presenting her little round, ferocious arm, she fired, hitting
one of the shielding horses upon the fore shoulder. Maddened with
pain, the brute flung himself out of his predicament, and left the
Indian exposed, upon which Annette immediately fired. The savage
uttered a terrible cry, flung up his arms, and fell without a move
among the liverwort.
"Did you kill him, after all, mademoiselle?"
"No, Julie; the wretch is only shamming. I fired yards away from
him. Now let the other brave stand up, or the same fate awaits him,"
the girl cried; and, presenting a picture of abject terror, the
unfortunate redskin, who believed the third one shot at to be dead,
drew himself out of his covert, and, putting his leg upon the horse,
exposed himself to the pistol. Once more the bloodthirsty little
scout fired, and with an agonized yell, the Indian sprawled in the
marsh-mire. His leg he seized just above the knee, as if the bullet
had entered at that point.
"Is he hit?" whispered Julie.
"No, silly petite; he is also making believe. How well the two
rascals act their part. See the one playing dead. Well, we shall wait
long enough to see his imposture exposed. He is sinking fast in the
quagmire. His head is almost under now." She had scarce ceased, when
the redskin gave a convulsive start, resembling a dying spasm, and
got once more safely above the hungry swamp.
"He will continue to have the spasms right along," Julie whispered,
"while we stay here."
"Yes; but for the sake of the two wounded ones--I believe mine is
badly hurt--we shall ride away. But we must keep watch to-night,
Julie. I believe these two men will follow; and if they find us
sleeping, they will brain us." Then, turning to the tangle of
struggling horses and Indians, she said in a stern voice--
"Some of you may only pretend that you have been wounded, and
purpose following us. But we shall keep strict watch, and woe unto
any one of you that we catch in pistol range again. We now leave
you." With these words the two sanguinary girls turned their horses,
and briskly rode away.
"What idiots they must have been to follow without fire-arms," Julie
said.
"Had we been armed only with hatchets, how different the case would
have been, enfant naif. You, child, may have considered this shedding
of blood unnecessary, and therefore cruel."
Oh, no; Julie did not think it so. La maitresse knew better than she
did.
"But there was only the choice between taking the method adopted,
and openly meeting the four Indians on _terra firma_, when probably all
the savages would have been killed; or, in the hurried shooting, we
might have missed the mark, and been cloven or speared."
"Where shall my mistress camp to-night?"
"I know an extensive bluff, and we could penetrate it far enough to
be tolerably safe from the braves."
When the upper rim of the sun burned like a semi-circlet of yellow,
quivering flame, above the far flat prairie, the girls turned their
horses towards a stretch of sombre wood that stood like a vast and
solemn congregation of cloaked men upon the level.
It was not considered prudent that night to kindle a fire; for one
wandering spark might prove a signal to the foe. So they ate their
meal, and Julie rolled herself up in her blanket, while Annette
seated herself outside of the tent to keep vigil during the first
watch.
"My mistress must not let me sleep too long; she ought not to sit up
at all. What did I come for--if--not--to--to--." Here the tired,
drowsy pet stopped, for she was asleep.
Annette sat upon her blanket, and heard no sound save the breaking
of the grass and the grinding of the horses' teeth, as the hungry
beasts fed. Her heart was not in the wood; it was away with her
lover, and once more her blood tingled, and a delicious sensation
made her heart warm as the words which he spoke when they rode
together passed through her brain.
"Oh, what nice verses he made about my eyes and ears, and my skin.
Ah, if he were only playing with me." An arrow now quivered for a
moment in her heart. "But no; he has the two ways--he can be playful,
and say all manner of teazing things; but, oh, he can be sincere. He
never could have spoken in such a tone, with such a light in his
eyes, with such an expression in his face, if all had not come from
the bottom of his heart. And he will take me away, away out to the
far east, where white men dwell, and put into some great mansion,
and make me its mistress. Oh, it will be all so sweet. But the
dearest part of all is that he will love me, and me alone. How proud
I shall be that no other girl can say, that his heart is hers.
"Ah, Annette, just for your sweet sake, I trust that the future over
which your heart now gloats will fit itself to such a dream. I think,
somehow, that it will; for he seems true, and, darling, you are
worthy. But you know it does not always happen in the way that you
have fashioned it in your dear head. Some other girl _does_
sometimes come with sly, soft feet and steal away hearts from
trusting and adoring wives, and they have no remorse either in doing
the cruel deed. Indeed, believe me, I have known them in their heart
to glory that they had done this thing. You will, therefore, have to
take your chance."
While Annette was in the midst of her reverie, her round dimpled
cheek resting on her hands, one of the horses tossed his head and
whinnied. "Julie, awake," she cried, quickly touching the sleeping
girl; and then seizing her pistol took position behind a tree,
whispering Julie to join her there. And as that frightened maiden
hurried out from her warm nest, a voice came through the poplars
saying,
"Fear not, Little Poplar comes."
"It is _his_ voice, Mademoiselle," and immediately the sleep flew out of
Julie's eyes, and left them luminous as the stars shining beyond the
tree-tops.
"The chief is welcome," Annette replied; and Julie was upon her feet
making a little voyage now in this direction, and now in that, in the
endeavour to find him. All the while she kept saying, "This way! this
way!" but in a tone so low that he could not have heard her at a
distance of ten lengths of this small maiden. At last his tall,
straight figure, resembling in very truth a little poplar, was seen
moving towards the tent; and with a shy run Julie was at his side.
"I followed the four braves who were bent on your capture, and saw
the affair in the swamp. When you rode away, one whom I supposed
dead, arose and joined with another whose leg I had thought was
broken in getting out the horses. One brave was really dead, and he
has by this time sunk in the bog. A fourth had a broken arm, and he
went away with the other two. They will not pursue again, so you may
sleep in peace till the rise of sun. I shall put my blanket here.
Should one approach, the ears of Little Poplar are as keen while the
spirit of sleep hovers over him as while he is awake."
Julie's dreams were very happy that night.
On the morrow Little Poplar informed them that his heart was not now
as much with the white people as it had been some little time ago. He
was aware that the braves were for the most part unreasonable, and
that they were easily led into wrong as well as to right doing.
"They have, I admit, committed some excesses; but it never can be
forgotten that strangers have taken possession of their hunting
grounds, and that, if they have no substitute to offer, the red
children of the plains must die. My tongue could not tell,
mademoiselle, nor your brain conceive, the sufferings that I have
seen among our people in the long bitter winters, with only the snow
for wrappers, and pieces of dried skins for food. Will the white man
die of hunger while food is within his reach? No, he will beg it
first, and then he will take by violence; but I have seen the young
maiden and the withered crone gasp their last breath away upon the
snow, while ranches teeming with cattle lay not an hour's march away.
"If an Indian, with a wife, and a lodge full of children dying on a
bitter winter's day of hunger, turn a calf from some nigh herd of
white man's cattle, alarming tidings fly to the east, and white men
and women learn, in their sumptuous houses, that the Indians do
naught but plunder. But they would have no need, I repeat, to lay
hands upon the ranchers' cattle if the white man had not come and
stripped them of their boundless heritage, and put them upon
reservations where a buffalo may never come. [Footnote: The words in
the mouth of this chief are not exaggerations, and it is God's own
truth that during late winters dozen after dozen of Indians, men and
women and children, perished in the snow after they had devoured the
skins that covered them. Yet these poor people are said to be under
"the paternal care of Government." Alas, our public men are only
concerned in playing their wretched political game, and they sit
intriguing, while the helpless creatures committed to their care
perish like dogs, of hunger, in their lodges.--E.C.]
"And some of the soldiers who have come here from the east are more
bent on earning reputation than on making peace. Some of their
leaders do not want the cheap glory of 'killing a lot of Indians;'
and I have with my own ears heard one of the Ontario magistrates,
Col. Denison, declare that he did next come here to kill, but to
prevent killing. If military affairs were now to be given into the
hands of some men like him it would prove better for all concerned.
"But there is another officer, Major Beaver, who has made amazing
marches; his men, in fact, have travelled like March hares. But give
me a bluff, and fifty braves, and not one of all his rash and rushing
followers will get back again to Ontario to boast of their deeds of
daring.
"Some of our men have been guilty of excesses, but Government gave
them its solemn pledge that if they returned to their reserves no
harm should come to them. All of my braves have gone back, because I
gave them the assurance that some of the officers gave to me. Yet, if
I mistake not, Major Beaver is at this moment planning an attack upon
us. His young men want to kill a few Indians, provided the thing can
be done without any risk; and then they will be described as great
heroes in the newspapers. They would fare very badly if they had to
return without having 'a brush,' as the more war-like of them have
put it, in the hearing of some of my friends."
"Yes, mon chef," Annette replied, "but you say that Colonel Denison
and others advocate a healing of the present sores, and pacific
measures. Then there are others who have always sympathized with the
Indian, like Mr. Mair. Mon pere tells me that he has been for some
time engaged on a beautiful poem, intended to show the injustice that
has been heaped upon the children of the plains. With good counsels
like these, surely no outrage will be done unto your people."
"And now, where do the two brave scouts purpose going?" the chief
enquired, as they came in sight of a small settlement nestling around
the edge of a coil in the Saskatchewan.
Annette was going to see her aunt, and Julie was coming with her.
They would remain there for a day or two to rest, and then they would
go wherever their services were needed most.
"Oh! not to mademoiselle's aunt's. Le grand chef and his followers
have twice been there looking for the scouts, and he has spies among
the neutral braves who would speedily bring him the news of your
arrival."
"Then, what would the chief advise? Our hampers are exhausted now,
and we must replenish them."
The chief would go after the gopher had sought his burrow, and fetch
all that the maidens needed. Beyond a wooded knoll, plain to the
view, was a lake, and in the wood skirting the water would be a
suitable camping ground. The chief advised the maidens to ride
thither, as they must now be tired and hungry; he would fetch them
the provisions and other things needed when the stars came out.
Annette then scribbled a note to her aunt, and mentioned those little
things that she needed. She would some day show her gratitude to sa
tante for her kindness, and "made" her love and duties as girls of
her race do with such grace. And the chief was away.
"Is Julie very tired?"
"Pas beaucoup, mademoiselle. If you want not to pitch tent now, I
should be well able to ride for a couple of hours yet."
"I want to hear what tidings there may be of Captain Stephens,
Julie," and her voice trembled a little. "I do not think that the
braves who go in and out of the village can all be hostile. Those who
are up to mischief have their paint on."
Turning their horses towards the village, they perceived two braves
riding towards them.
"I think I know one of these, Julie. Is not the taller one he who
brought us the proclamation of le grand chef?"
"Oh, yes; the very one. How quick ma maitresse is in remembering
persons." The Indian rode rapidly towards the two little scouts, and
as he drew near he raised his hand.
"It is not safe down here," he said, in Cree, "for the scouts. A
runner from the Stonies saw you both, and Little Poplar with you,
this morning, and swiftly carried the news. It is likely that le
grand chef knows of it before this. Little Poplar, who is now
disguised as a medicine man, is yonder in the valley, and he charged
me to come and warn the two scouts, his friends, to follow out the
instructions that he gave them without any delay. He has got some
tidings, too, about Stephens, le capitaine. Not good tidings, I
think; a brave saw several of le chef's men steal after him down the
Valley of the Snakes."
A short cry escaped from Annette's lips, and the blood shrunk
chilled to her heart.
"Are there any tidings of a capture?"
"No; perhaps le capitaine escaped. Upon clear ground the white men's
horses could easily outdistance the braves, who, it is said, were not
mounted."
Unsatisfactory as this intelligence was, it left room to hope. But
the beauty of the silvery lake, with its fringe of berried bushes;
the scolding of the kingfisher as he gadded from one riven tree to
another; the goblin laughter [Footnote: I borrow this most expressive
phrase from my friend, Prof. Roberts, as vividly descriptive of the
cry of the loon. John Burroughs applies the epithet "whinny," which
is good; but it misses the sense of supernatural terror with which,
to me, the cry of this bird in the moonlight is always associated.]
of the stately loon, as he held his way across the wide stretch of
shining, richly tinted water, might all as well have never been; for
Annette saw them not. Julie was busy trying to cheer her.
"Be not down at heart, sweet my mistress. These territories are now
invested by numerous soldiers from the East, and tidings of this
capture, if such there has been, would speedily reach them. Throw
away your care, and rest to-night. With the sun we shall rise to-morrow,
ourselves restored, our horses fresh, and ascertain the facts.
Inspector Dicken will know; and him we can reach in a two hours'
ride."
"Sweet girl, in the hour of pain you always can give me consolation.
Indians have also skulked after us; and it may be that the braves
were only watching whither Captain Stephens went."
"My view precisely, mademoiselle; but we shall talk no more about it
now. Sit beside me here upon the bank, and look at the peace and the
beauty of all this scene." Under the shadow of the bank, with its
matted growth of trees, the water was a pure myrtle green; midway in
the expanse it was purple, and beyond, in the last faint light of the
sun, it was an exquisite violet. The sand at their feet alternated in
veins of umber brown, and ashes of roses; while the vermillion of the
rowan berries made a vivid and gorgeous contrast to the glaucous
green of the leafage.
Little ripples came upon the bright, pink sand that fringed the
unvarying tide-mark.
"What causes the ripple now, Julie, when no breath of wind is in the
heavens, and neither oar nor paddle is on the lake?"
"Stay; I thought that I heard it a moment ago! Yes, I hear it again.
Hear you not the note of some waterfowl?"
Yes, Annette did hear it; but she could not say from what kind of
bird the singing came.
"Well, my sweet mistress, the ripples which you now see swinging in
upon the sand come from the same bird whose song you hear. The bird
itself is the swan, made sacred to love."
"Oh, I remember something of the legend, Julie. Repeat it to me,
s'il vous plait."
"Well; there was once a beautiful maiden of the plains, whom many of
the bravest and most noble of the chiefs adored; but she disdained
their wooing, for she loved with a passion that absorbed her soul and
body a young man with hair like the corn leaves when, after rain, the
sunlight is shot through the stalks. He stayed some days in the lodge
of the chief, her father; and while his heart was yet full of love
for the peach-skinned, star-eyed maiden, he was obliged to go away
with his white brethren, who had come from over seas to trace the
source and flow of some of our mighty rivers. The parting of the
lovers was like the breaking of heart-strings. The maiden pined, and
through all the summer sat among the flowers sighing for her darling
with the amber-tinted hair. Her sleep refreshed her not, for through
the night she dreamt of naught but the parting, and of the sorrow in
his sky-blue eyes. In the day, her eyes were ever looking wistfully
along the trail by which he had come, or gazing, with a woe past
skill to describe, out along the stretch by which he had gone from
her sight. Late in the autumn, when the petals of the rose and the
daisy began to fall, and summer birds prepared for the flight to the
south, the Great Spirit came softly down from a cumulus cloud and
stood beside the maiden, as she sat upon the fading prairie. He told
her of a glorious land out in the heavens, where spring endured for
ever, and true lovers were joined to have no more parting; and when
she looked yearningly towards the region at which he pointed, he
asked her if she would go thither with him. With joy unutterable she
consented, and giving her hand into his, the two rose in the air and
disappeared through a piled mass of rosy cloud. When she reached
paradise, knowledge was given to her of the loves of maidens upon the
earth, and reflecting how bitter her lot had been, she besought the
God of Thunder, and the Ruler of the Spheres, to permit her to pass a
portion of each year upon the earth, in order to watch over and
console love-sick virgins who were separated from their betrothed. To
her request the god consented, giving to the maiden the figure of a
swan. Since that time she visits the earth a short time after
midsummer day; and you can hear her singing upon our great inland
waters during the night, at any place between the lonesome stretches
of the far north to the great southern lakes, from the middle of
summer till the first golden gleam comes in the maple leaf. Then she
arises, and the hunter marvels at the beautiful bird with the white
pinions which flies up into the heavens, and passes beyond the
highest clouds."
"Harken now, mademoiselle; it sings again." And lo! from over the
hushed face of the water came the notes of the guardian maiden.
"The song is not plaintive and sorrow-laden, as I have been told the
swan's song is, Julie."
"No; the singing of the swan soothes and consoles. Hark again to it."
"Oh, it is divine, Julie, and creeps into my heart, filling me with
comfort and exquisite peace."
"I doubt not, mademoiselle, that the maiden came to this lake to
cheer your sorrowful spirit, and to give you surety that neither you
nor your lover stand in danger."
"Ah, Julie; it is so sweet to think this. And this it is which the
song tells me through the delightful quiet of my heart."
"Yes, my sweet mistress; and I had forgotten the most delicious
tidings in the legend. The maiden's singing is always a guarantee
that no harm can come to either of the lovers." And while Annette was
feasting her spirit upon this new joy, the song of the swan, which
for a minute or two had been hushed, suddenly was resumed close by;
and looking, the two maidens saw a bird, beautiful, and endowed with
grace of motion past description, move by, sending divers shining
rings of water before it. Then a sudden darkness fell and hid the
bird; but the song came at frequent intervals to the girls from the
midst of the lake, and whenever a shadow passed over Annette's
spirit, the singing was resumed. [Footnote: There is a legend among
some of the Indian tribes of the North-West territories that the swan
is a metamorphosed love-sick maiden, whose function and prerogative is
to watch over all young virgins who have given away their hearts. It
is a fact that the Indian hunters long refrained from killing the
white swan in deference to a belief in this legend.--E.C.]
There was now a stir among the brambles near the girl's tent, and to
Annette's "Qui vive?" came the response--
"It is Little Poplar."
"Oh, I am so glad that he is come," Julie said, and the eyes of this
minx grew instantly larger, and ten times more bright.
Some of my fair readers may now desire to know "exactly" what this
Indian chief, who is so conspicuous in the story "looked like." Well,
he was just such a man as always finds an easy access to a woman's
heart. It is true that he was "a savage," but if merit there be in
"blood,"--and for my own part I would not have a dog unless I was
sure about his pedigree,--he was descended of a long and illustrious
line of chiefs, whose ancestors, mayhap, were foremost in that
splendid civilization, that has left us an art mighty and full of
wonders, centuries before the destroying sails of Cortez were spread
upon the deep.
He was tall, and straight, and lithe; and he had a certain
indefinable grace of gesture and address which fits itself only to
one who, by descent and breeding, has been "to the manner born." His
hair was dark, and almost silky fine; and the poise of his head would
be a theme for the pen or the pencil of Rossetti. His eye was dark as
night, but it revealed an immense range of expression; a capacity for
great tenderness, and passion without bound. His nose approximated
the aquiline type; his firm mouth was a bow of Cupid, and his skin
was a light nut-brown. His dress was like that of a cow-boy, and was
devoid of barbaric gauds. I suppose that is enough to say about him.
[Footnote: I may say that when afterwards, through the fortunes of
war, this same chief was brought as a prisoner before a certain
paunchy officer, the attempt of the latter to show his dignity was a
clumsy failure. The proud and splendid chief, with arms folded across
his breast, and head slightly bowed, looked singularly out of place
arraigned before the stumpy judge.--E. C.]
"And now," said the chief, putting down the hamper, "We shall see
what your aunt has sent." Nimble fingers soon opened it, and found,
besides le cafe and le the, as they were labelled, several petits
pains--"Rolls!" cried Julie, smacking her hungry lips--a bunch of
saucisses; of le fromage about a pound, and of la patisserie enough
for a meal for the hungry girls.
"There now, Julie, we have coffee, and tea, and rolls, and sausage;
a pound of cheese, fully, and pie enough for one delicious meal." Her
sweet mouth was "watering," and when she came to un gigot de mouton,
she cried, "What a sweet aunt she is! But when can we eat this whole
leg of mutton?"
Oh, Julie was very hungry, and so was her chief; and Annette herself
was like a bear. After all, very little would be left for the prairie
dog.
"Does the chief think that Captain Stephens was in danger of capture
by those Indians?" Annette ventured to ask. This is the question that
had been upon her lips since the arrival of the chief, but she could
not summon courage enough to ask it sooner.
"When last seen, mademoiselle, le capitaine and his wounded friend
were moving slowly through the swampy bottom of the ravine; and many
braves, with arms in their hands, were in close pursuit. But le
capitaine may have gone upon the high ground and escaped; he easily
could have done so."
There was not much consolation in this for Annette's foreboding
heart; but as she lay down in her blanket, with Julie at her side,
there came once more, through the stillness, from the bosom of the
lake, the soothing song of the swan.
"Do you hear it again, Julie?"
Yes, Julie heard it: It was, without any doubt, singing to quiet the
groundless apprehensions of sa maitresse. Then both the maidens
slept. And whenever through the night Annette awoke, and began to
think of her lover's peril and probable captivity, the soft, scented
night wind bore to her ears a note or two of reassuring music from
the throat of the maiden-bird.
Before the sun had cleared the horizon on the morrow the breakfast
was ended, the tent rolled; and the saddles were upon the horses.
Then the trio set out at a brisk trot; the chief to join his people
upon their reserve, the girls to find Inspector Dicken at Battleford.
I do not like "breaking threads," but it is necessary that, for the
present, I should allow my two Metis maidens to journey without my
company, while I go back to where I left Captain Stephens in the
gulch.
The route of the two horsemen lay through alternating swamp and
grassland, and as the path was not much traversed, bush tangles here
and there almost blocked the way. They had no misgiving as they rode,
and expected to be soon with Inspector Dicken. The lower end of the
gulch was not so cheerful as that portion where they had entered. The
trees grew thicker; swamps composed the greater portion of the
ground, and the long groping shores of the trees might be traced far
through the black bog, till they found anchoring place at the skirt
of the upland. At last they reached a point where the swamp extended
across the entire valley; and further progress by the level was
impossible.
"I fear, Phillips, that we shall be obliged to try the edge of the
upland; but how our horses can make their way through the dense bush
I am unable to see. Nevertheless, we must try it." As they turned
their horses' heads, a din of yells burst upon their ears from the
bushes round about; and immediately a score of savages with tomahawks
uplift, headed by a Metis with snaky eyes, surrounded them.
"Surrender, messieurs; resistance is useless."
Stephens looked about him, and at one glance mastered the situation.
Phillips was too ill of his wounds to be able to use his right arm,
even though a dash down the trail by which they had come were
practicable. For himself, he had a pair of Colt's revolvers; but
before he could fire twice the savages would be enabled to brain him
with their tomahawks.
"I surrender," he said, nodding to the hateful boisbrule; and the
detestable eyes of the man gleamed as he said--
"Bind the prisoners."