"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."