The policeman retreated, and in a moment reappeared with the
Inspector and Captain Stephens at his side.
"Who are you?" asked the Inspector in a low voice.
"Friends." Then Annette said, in a distinct voice: "Monsieur Stephens may remember me?"
"The Indian boy who warned me of my danger!" he exclaimed, turning
to the Inspector. "You may admit them." In a moment Tall Elk was
inside.
"I am a Cree chief, and twenty of my braves are friendly. When the
Indians break through the stockade I shall guard this door, and you
can pass out. Go directly to the river, and at the pier you will find
a boat waiting. Then the river is clear before you to Battleford."
Saying these words the chief was gone, the two Indian boys following
him.
At this moment a chorus of yelling, more infernal than any which had
been heard before, arose, and, brandishing their weapons, the horde
of infuriated savages began to pour through a large gap in the
stockade.
"Follow me, my men," whispered the Inspector, and with Stephens at
his side he descended into the yard where the smoke from burning
torches was so dense that the whole party passed through the group of
friendly braves without attracting the attention of the hostile
savages. They very speedily gained the river and found a large York
boat, of shallow draught, which they pushed out into the slow sweep
of tide. The chief was nowhere to be seen; but the two mysterious and
beautiful Indian boys hovered along the gloomy brink of the river,
frequently turning apprehensive eyes towards the Fort. As the boat
moved downward so did they, flitting along like a pair of guardian
angels. Immediately beside them they perceived a fierce-looking
Indian, glaring through the dark upon the water.
He had evidently just perceived the boat, for, uttering a loud alarm-
yell, he turned and was making off toward the Fort to give the tidings.
"Stop," shouted Annette, in clear, thrilling Cree.
The savage stood a moment, and glared at this handsome lad of his
tribe.
"If you move a step I shoot you. Drop to the ground."
The Indian stood irresolute, but the girl made a sudden bound
forward and held the glittering barrel of her revolver in his face.
"You are a Cree?" he inquired, in a voice quivering with an odd
mixture of fear and rage.
"I am."
"Why don't you let me alarm the braves? The police are escaping."
"The Cree boy will not give his reasons; but his brother must obey."
The Indian stood looking upon Annette as if endeavouring to scan her
features; and as if to help him in his object, a flash of flame from
a burning building in the Fort shone for a moment upon the boy, and
showed the cowardly warrior a pair of large, soft eyes, fringed with
long lashes; a sweet oval face, and a delicate little hand. The
sudden observation seemed to fill him with contempt and courage, and
turning he bounded away with another wild yell.