"Bonjour, Monsieur Stephens, was the reply. Louis Riel, intently
watching, saw the girl's colour come and go as she spoke to the
visitor. The young man stayed only for a few moments, and the chief
observed that everybody in the house treated him as if in some way he
had been the benefactor of all. When he arose to go, Paul, who knew
of every widgeon in the mere beyond the cottonwood grove, and where
the last flock of quail had been seen to alight, followed him out of
the door, and very secretly communicated his knowledge. Annette had
seen a large flock of turkeys upon the prairie a few moments walk
south of the poplar grove, and perhaps they had not yet gone away.
"When did you see them, ma chere demoiselle?" enquired Stephens. You
know turkeys do not settle down like immigrants on one spot, and wait
till we inhabitants of the plains come out and shoot them. Was it
last week, or only the day before yesterday?" There was a very merry
twinkle in his eye as he went on with this banter. Annette affected
to pout, but she answered.
"This morning, while the dew was shining upon the grass, and you, I
doubt not, were sleeping soundly, I was abroad on the plains for the
cows. It was then I saw them. I am glad, however, that you have
pointed out the difference between turkeys and immigrants. I did not
know it before." He handed her a sun-flower which he had plucked on
the way, saying, "There, for your valuable information, I give you that. Next time I
come, if you are able to tell me where I can find several flocks, I
shall bring you some coppers." With a world of mischief in his eyes,
he disappeared, and Annette, in spite of herself, could not conceal
from everybody in the house a quick little sigh at his departure.
"It seems to me this Monsieur Stephens is a great favourite with
you folk?" said M. Riel, when the young man had left the cottage.
"Now had I come for sport, no pretty eyes would have seen any flocks
to reserve for me." And he gave a somewhat sneering glance at poor
Annette, who was pretending to be engaged in examining the petals of
the sun-flower, although she was all the while thinking of the
mischievous, manly, sunny-hearted lad who had given it to her. M.
Riel's words and the sneer were lost, so far as she was concerned.
Her ears were where her heart was, out on the plain beyond the
cottonwood, where she could see the tall, straight, lithe figure of
young Stephens, and his dog at his heels.