Annette - The Metis Spy

We left Annette and her little companion speeding along the banks of

the Saskatchewan bound for Pitt. They dare not come near the

stockades, for the Indians had invested the high ground overlooking

the Fort, and would be sure to make embarrassing enquiries of the two

strange Indian boys.

"My plan is this Julie," Annette said. "We shall camp in the valley

beyond Turtle Hill, and when it grows dark, we can come in and see

the state of affairs about the garrison."

"Oui Mademoiselle; and Tall Poplar is to be at the stockade facing

the river half an hour after sun-set. He said he would be there, in

case that we should in any way need his assistance."

"Bon, ma Julie. It seems to me that your fine chef may be of some

use to us before these troubles end."

Then the two dismounted, and tethering their horses set at work to

pitch their tent. Annette had brought a tent, strapped to her saddle,

from her aunt's; and the two sweet maidens opened out the folds, set

up the white cotton in a cleared plot, in the centre of a copse of

white oak, where it was securely screened from passing eyes. Julie

took from her pony's back a thick, large rug, which was to serve the

two for a coverlet; and going forth a short way the four little brown

hands busied themselves breaking soft branches from the trees.

"There," Annette said, as she put down her armful in the tent; "that

will make a pillow as cosy as a sack of mallard's down. Now, Julie,

we shall eat, then sleep till the afternoon; for I suspect that there

will be little rest for us while the sun is below the prairie."

Julie opened the hamper, and the winsome pair fell to, making a

hearty meal from home-made bread, cold quail, and butter with the

very perfume of the prairie flowers. A little way beyond a jet of

cold, clear water came gurgling out of the rocks; and tripping away

Julie fetched a cup. Then they fastened their hamper, put their

pistols by their side, laid themselves down together, and fell asleep

to the music of the little spring, and the bickering of gold finches

in the leaves.

When Annette awoke, it was the mellow afternoon, and the sun shone

like a great yellow shield low in the west. Annette stepped quietly

out, her dainty little feet hardly crushing the flowers as she went,

to take a peep at the horses. They, too, had lain down; but upon

seeing the pair of large, bright, peering eyes, they arose, stretched

themselves, whisked their tails, and began again feasting on the

crisp, luscious grass.

When the sun's upper rim lay like a little semi-circle of fire over

the far edge of the prairie, the two adventurers girded on their

belts, and taking their revolvers, started away like a pair of prying

fawns toward the Fort. Twilight does not tarry long upon the plains;

and when the maidens reached the confines of the Fort, the stockades

and the enclosed buildings were a mere dusky blur. Moving cautiously

along the side facing the river, they perceived a straight, tall

figure, awaiting them; and the handsome chief stepped up.