Annette, the Metis Spy: A Heroine of the N.W. Rebellion

by J. E. Collins

  CHAPTER III.

  THE LITTLE MAIDEN'S BRAVERY.

  She pulled her rein, but her eye flashed and she grasped the butt ofher pistol.

  "Who dares call upon me to stop? Have I not the right of way onthese prairies?"

  "I call you to stop," replied the horseman, riding up close to thegirl, and pushing back his hat. "_I_ do. Look and see if you know me?"Full well she knew who the interceptor was. The first sound of his voicehad gone with a shiver to her heart. "Ah, you know the Metis chief?"

  "But I wish to pass on, monsieur. Even you, le grand Chef, have noright to stop me without cause; and I now ask you again to let mepass."

  "I will not because I have reason."

  "What is it, monsieur?"

  "You are a spy. You are an enemy to the cause."

  "Even to you, monsieur, I say it is a lie. I will pass;" and shestruck her heels into her horse's flank. The animal bounded forward,but the rebel chief seized the bridle, as he cried:

  "You are an enemy to the cause; and you go now to the enemy. I knowyou, mademoiselle Annette." And a terrible light blazed in his eyes,as he looked the disguised maiden in the face.

  "Ay, monsieur! you are quick at penetrating disguises. I amMademoiselle Annette; and I go to the enemy. Nor can monsieur hinderme." As she spoke these words she suddenly drew a pistol, and cockingit placed the cold, glittering barrel within a foot of the leader'sface.

  "Unhand my bridle or by our Holy Lady I fire." The coward handquivered, the fingers relaxed, and the bridle was free.

  "Now I advise monsieur to meddle with me no more this night. I willnot suffer any bar to my project; I have sworn it." So saying herhorse sprang forward, and she disappeared down the slope, leaving thebaulked chief sitting upon his horse still as a stone. Away, away outover the soft grassy plain she sped, swiftly and as lightly as a birdmight fly. Three minutes brought her in sight of Hickory Bush, agrove of trees straggling up from the flat in the moonlight, andresembling a congregation of witches with draggled hair, sufferingtorture. Beyond the trees shone a cluster of white camps; and thegirl's heart gave a great bound as she saw by the order prevailingthere, that the inmates had been so far unmolested. She sprang intothe midst of the camps and shouted,

  "Awaken! Arise! Quick! The Crees are bound hither to make youcaptives. Allons! Allons!"

  A tall supple figure sprang from one of the tents. How readily sherecognised his manly step, his proud head, his bright eye, hismusical voice.

  "Who are you? Why this attack?"

  "I am you friend. Away, if you value your liberty, and mount yourhorse. I await to lead you from the danger." With motion quick andnoiseless as the movements of night birds, the inmates of the tentsarmed themselves, strapped their knapsacks, and got into the saddle.No one questioned the graceful Indian boy further. There wassomething so appealing in his voice, so impatient in his gestures ashe waited for their departure, that suspicion could not lurk in anymind.

  "Hark!" cried the unknown. "They come. Hear you not the dull trampleof their hoofs?"

  "By the saints in heaven, yes, and I see them too," said one of theparty, looking from his saddle through a night-glass.

  "Away, away," cried the Indian boy. "Follow me;" and as the savagesbehind surrounded the empty tents with their hellish cries, he ledthe rescued ones at full speed down the valley, around the northernedge of Hickory Ridge, and out toward the Chequered Hills. After halfan hour's ride, he drew bridle and the company gathered about him.Captain Stephens was the first to speak.

  "Brave lad, we owe our liberty to you; yet wherefore, I am sure, Icannot tell."

  But the boy only raised his hand, as if imposing silence upon thatpoint.

  "You are by no means safe from the Indians yet. They will scour theplains, and on this untrodden prairie you cannot conceal your trail.My advice is that you make no delay, but push on to Fort Pitt, whichis only about twelve miles distant."

  "Of all points this is the one that I should most desire to be at,"responded Stephens; "but I do not know that I can find Pitt."

  One of the number had been at the Fort a few years before; but hecould not make it again from this unknown part of the prairie.

  "Follow me, then," answered the unknown. "I shall take you throughthe hills by a short route to the river. Then you need but to followthe bank to find the fort;" and as he spoke he once more dashed hisheels into his horse's flanks and set off towards the center of thegroup of hills, that resembled in the distance a row of Dutchwomen inheavy petticoats.

  Several times as the party followed their deliverer, Stephens wouldexclaim,

  "Where have I heard that voice? The tone is familiar to me, but Icannot give the slightest guess as to the boys' identity."

  "Do you think he is an Indian?" enquired one.

  "His voice is certainly finer and sweeter than any Indian's that Ihave ever heard. And his French is perfect.

  "True, captain, and notice the delicate little hands that he has,and the proud, dainty poise of his head. He is evidently in disguise;and what is equally plain, he does not relish our attempts atpenetrating his identity." Upon the crest of a round hill, the guidestayed his horse and pointed eastward.

  "A few minutes ride will take you to the river; half an hour then tothe north and you are at Pitt. Before I leave, just a word. Tall Elkput on paint to-day, and before the set of to-morrow's sun, there isnot a Cree in all the region who will not be on the war-path. To-morrowthe chief goes to Big Bear, to press him to dig up the hatchet;so Messieurs, look to your guns in the Fort, as you will have morethan three hundred enemies under the stockades before therising of the next moon. Au revoir."

  Before any of the group could utter a word of thanks, the mysteriousboy was off again to the north-west with the speed of the wind.

  "That voice!" exclaimed Stephen striking his forehead. "I know itsurely; whose _can_ it be?" and bewildered past hope of enlightenment,he turned his horse down the slope, and dashed towards the Saskatchewan.His followers and himself were admitted readily enough by InspectorDicken, a son of the great novelist, and destined afterwards to be oneof the heroes of the war.

  When Annette rode away from Louis Riel to give warning to her lover,the rebel chief ground his teeth and swore terrible oaths.

  "It is as well" he muttered; "I have now justifiable grounds fordepriving her of liberty." Putting a whistle to his mouth he blew along blast, which was immediately answered from a clump ofcottonwood, about a quarter of a mile distant. Then came the tramp ofhoofs, and a minute later a horseman drew bridle by his chief.

  "The spy has escaped me, Jean, and he was none other than Isupposed, ma belle Demoiselle. She did not deny that she was on amission hostile to our interests, and when I remonstrated, she held apistol in my face and swore by the Virgin that she would fire. Thisis reason enough, Jean, for her apprehension. Let us away."

  The chief led along the skirt of the upland, till he entered themouth of a wide, darksome valley. Upon either side straggled a growthof mixed larch and cedar; in the centre was a dismal bog, throughwhich slowly rolled a black, foul stream. As they passed along theshoulder of solid ground, troops of birds rose out of the wide sea ofbog, and the noise of their wings made a low, mournful whirring asthey passed in dark troops upwards into the ever-deepening dusk.

  Then out of the gloom came a Ding Dong, like the low, solemn beat ofa bell. Jean crossed himself and exclaimed,

  "Mon Dieu! What is that Monsieur?"

  "What, afraid Jean? That is no toll for a lost soul, but the cryingof the dismal bell bird."

  "I never heard it before Mon Chef."

  "And may never hear it again. It lives only in the most doleful andsolitary swamps, and I doubt if there is another place in all thewide territories save here, where you may hear its voice."

  It had now grown so dark that the horses could only tread their wayby instinct, and at every noise or cry that came from the swamp,Jeans' blood shivered in his veins. He had no idea where his masterwas leading him, and had re
frained from 'asking all along, though thequery hung constantly upon his tongue. Then a pair of noiseless wingsbrushed his cheek, paused, and hovered about his head; while two redeyes glared at him.

  "In the name of God what is it?" he screamed, smiting the creaturewith the handle of his whip. "Where are you leading me Mon Chef?"

  "Peace Jean, I did not believe that you were such an arrant coward.You shall soon see where I go. It is seldom that man is seen or heardin this region, and the strange creatures marvel. That was one of thelarge night-hawks which so terrified your weak senses. Do you seeyonder light?"

  From a point which appeared to be the head of the valley, came apiercing white light, and its reflection fell upon the wide, black,shining stream that ran through the valley, like the links of agolden chain.

  "Yonder, Jean, is the abode of Mother Jubal--thither am I bound."

  "What, to Madame Jubal, the Snake Charmer, the witch, the woman thatcomes to her enemies when they sleep at nights, and thickens theirblood with cold? I thought, Monsieur, that she lived in hell, andonly appeared on earth when she came to do harm to mankind."

  "You will find her of the earth, Jean; but she has ever been willingto do my behests."

  By the reflection of the light could be seen a hut standing in acup-shaped niche at the head of the valley. It was ringed around withdraggled larch and cedars; and a belt of dark hills encircled it. Nomoonlight penetrated here, save toward the dawn, when pale beams fellslantwise across the ghostly swamp.

  As the horses, drew near there was heard to come from the hut a low,suppressed yelp, half like the bark of a dog, yet resembling the cryof a wolf. The door was open, and by a low table, upon which burnedthe clear, unflickering light which the two had seen so far down thevalley, sat the old woman. Upon hearing the approach of footsteps,she blew out this light, and through the hideous gloom the Too whit,Too whoo of an owl came from the cabin. Then several pairs of eyesbegan to gleam at the intruders out of the dusk, and all the whileseveral throats went on repeating in ghostly tones Too whit, Too whoo.

  The chief pulled up his horse, while his companion shivered fromhead to foot. Then raising his voice, he cried:

  "Jubal, relight your lamp; I have come far to see you. You know me,Jubal. Monsieur le chef?"

  "Pardonnez moi," croaked the hag, as she struck the light. Then camein quavering tones:

  "Entrez."

  What a brushing of soft wings and gleaming of eyes! The hut wasliterally filled with living creatures.

  "These are my children," the old woman said, with a horrible quakinglaugh, as she pointed to the perches. Rows of pert ravens stood upontip-toe along the bars looking with bright eyes upon the strangers;while here and there an owl opened his crooked beak and said Toowhit, Too whoo. A strange creature, with wolfish head and limbs,crouched by the hearth; but after three or four furtive glances atthe intruders, he skulked back into a dark corner of the cabin. Fromthis retreat he continued to glare with shy, treacherous eyes.

  The old woman was short, and stooped; but her eyes were wonderfullybright. Nay, when she looked from the dark corner, phosphorescentjets seemed to break from them.

  "Come, mother, toss the cup and tell me what Fortune has in storefor me this time," said the chief, who had seated himself upon a low,creaking stool in the corner.

  "I will," she replied; "why should I not when I am honoured so muchas to receive a visit from le grand chef de Metis." And hobblingaway, she took from a nook a large cup without a handle, black on theoutside and white within. Tea was brewed which the Rebel chief drank,leaving naught but the dregs. Then Jubal muttered some words, whichher visitors could not understand, and threw up the cup. She had nosooner done this than the crows began to chatter and caw, and theowls to cry; and each time that the cup ascended, they all raisedthemselves upon their feet and elevated their wings. When the cupcame into her hand from the ceiling the third time, she looked towardthe perches and said:

  "Peace children." Then turning to the dark, oily chief, she said,"Listen, O Monsieur, while I read. Here are bands of men hurryingacross the prairie into the gorges, and concealing themselves in thewood. There is the flash of sabres, and the smoke of cannon.Everywhere a bloody war is raging; and Indians are tearing away men,and women, and children from their homes to captivity.

  "Ah! what is this I see here? A girl. Monsieur woos her, but she isturned away. The maiden flies; Monsieur follows, and he overtakes themaiden. Then he bears her away with guards around her, through a deepvalley, till he reaches a hut. Now he hands her over to an uglyhag--and the name of that hag is Jubal. Is it not so, Monsieur?" andthe crone, turning from the cup, looked with a hideous grin in the faceof the Rebel chief.

  "Oui, Jubal. You have guessed aright. To-morrow or the next day,Jean will bring hither a young woman. She is to be strictly guardedin that room where you kept--....

  "Jubal remembers; Monsieur need not mention names."

  "C'est bon! Well, Jubal, you need not exercise any severity towardsthe maiden, save that of a rigid confinement to her room. Me youshall hear from again."

  "Is the maiden a pretty bird?" the crone asked with a chuckle.

  "That matters not, Jubal," the chief replied, somewhat haughtily."She is a dangerous young person, and has been playing the traitor toour cause. The only means of proceeding against the girl, is to takeher liberty away. I am in hopes of persuading her to a right frame ofmind, and with this end in view, I shall be obliged to pay somevisits here during her captivity."

  "I understand," quavered the hag; and the gleam in her eyes, as shelaid her hand upon the chiefs shoulder, was most diabolical to see."My poor simple son is down to the village with the pony for someprovisions for my little cabin. Ma belle I shall be able to usehandsomely, when she comes." Fetching then a black bottle, aroundwhich were many tangles of cob-web, she set it before; her visitors.The chief took a long draught. Jean swallowed enough to enable him tostand boldly up and stare at the owls, and the bright-eyed ravens.

  "Let us away, Jean," cried the chief now in high spirits as the oldJamaica began to race through his veins; and flinging himself intohis saddle, he rode of at a fleet pace.

  Jean opened not his mouth till he found himself once more upon theplain, in the light of the honest moon. The Rebel chief now checkinghis pony's gait said:

  "I suppose you have control enough over your fears now to listen tome?"

  "Oui Monsieur."

  "You will be able to-morrow night to find the den that we have left?"

  "Without difficulty, Mon Chef."

  "Well; to-morrow you ride away to Tall Elk, and give him thismessage from me.

  "Colonel Marton is abroad, and his daughter, Annette, the enemy ofthe Indian and the Half-breed, is at home. She must be secured thisevening before the moon rises. Bring up twenty braves; approach thehouse carefully, and fetch the maiden where directed. You will seethat the braves make no noise, for this girl is as wary as the wildgoose, and that little minx, Julie, her maid, is almost as wide-awake."

  And as Jean rode away, the villain muttered to himself, "We shallsee my proud bird how long you will gainsay Louis Riel after I getyou under Jubal's bolt and lock. Go with you from Canada as my wife,and fly the honours with which this revolution will crown my brows?No, by the Mater purissima. You have been too scornful my prettymaiden; you have not concealed your preference for this English dog;you have held your rebellious pistol in my face. Ah, no, ma petiteAnnette; but I shall amuse myself, sometimes, after the brunt of theday's labour, by riding up the dismal valley, and stroking yourbroken wings. When I have served my mood, played to the full with thecaged bird, Jubal can let it go to attract some new mate. Holyvirgin, but my triumph will be very sweet! Yea, Annette, to have youin one's own power is a sweet thing; nothing can be sweeter exceptthe vengeance which shall feast itself at the same source as mypassion."

  He raised his arm in the direction of White Oaks, where lay thegirl's cottage, and cried like a triumphant fiend.

  "Bonsoir. Adieu, ma be
lle Annette. Sweet dreams about your loverto-night. To-morrow I shall bathe my face in the coils of your silkenhair." And he was away.

  When Jean rode away from his master he fell into a train of musing."Methinks," he said aloud after a long pause, "that we had betterkill two birds with one stone to-morrow. If the master take themistress, I do not see why the man should not have the maid." And asthe fellow reached this conclusion his little weasel eyes brightenedas if each were the point of a glow worm; and he smote the flank ofhis horse with his heavy heel. "You one day turned up your sweet,haughty nose, Julie, when I told you how beautiful you were, and thatI would like to kiss the dew off your red lips. Well, Julie, my planfor the morrow is to denounce you to Tall Elk as a spy; and after Ihave got possession of you, my pretty one, with a brave at one sideof your pony, and myself at the other, we shall march to thecottonwood where the door of ma mere stands always open to her son,and that which belongs to him." So, chuckling over the fair prospectsof the morrow, the fellow urged his pony to the full of its speed,down to the little village of St. Ignace.

  Just as the sun went down like a shield of burning brass over thegray line of the prairie on the morrow, a cringing, stealthy-lookingman might be seen riding a sorrel pony towards the verge of AlkaSwamp, near which were camped the painted warriors of Tall Elk. As hedrew near the squaws began to clap their hands, and the lean, uglydogs gave several short yelps. Tall Elk came to the door of hiswigwam, wherein sat several pretty young Cree wives sewing beads anddainty work upon his war jacket; and going to the horseman he said:

  "The messenger from the great chief is welcome. What is his commandfor Tall Elk?"

  When the savage had heard the orders of the rebel chief, and theadditional instructions of Jean, he grunted: "Ugh; sorry to do this.The two girls were always kind to the Indians; and our braves willnot like to do this against La Reine. But we must obey the orders ofle grand chef."

  "It is well. Let your braves be ready to start when the gopher comesout of his burrow." Fastening his horse to a cottonwood tree, thismiscreant emissary began to whistle a tune, and walked about amongthe lodges, seeking to attract the attention of some pretty Indianmaiden, of which there were many in the tents. The braves were abroada little way, some looking for elk and others for muskrat, so thatthe impudent Metis might go about seeking to break hearts without anyrisk of getting a broken head.

  When night had fallen over the prairie, and the bull-frog and thecricket filled the lower air with a confusing din of small sounds,thirty dusky warriors, mounted upon their ponies, with Tall Elk andJean at their head, crossed over the ridge and struck out for WhiteOaks. An hour's ride brought them to an elevation from which they sawa light twinkling through the grove. Jean's small eyes were gleamingwith foul expectation--he was thinking of his lovely booty, safeunder the lock and key of his hideous little Metis mother.

  "Let us spread our force now, chief," he whispered to Tall Elk. Andwe leave them drawing their circle of horses, stealthily and swiftly,around the silent cottage.