Annette - The Metis Spy

"I had been anxious, and was afraid for the safety of ma Julie and

Mademoiselle."

"Will they attack the Fort to-night?" Annette eagerly asked.

"This will be a bad night for the Fort. The braves have had a White

Dog feast; and the Indians have assembled from far and near to fight

for Big Bear. They attack in half an hour."

"Can they hold out inside?"

"Twenty-four men against five hundred!" the chief replied. "First

they will cut a breach in the stockade; then they will go in and burn

down the Fort. Big Bear has asked the Inspector to surrender, but he

has refused."

"What is to be done, good chief? I have in there a white friend who

saved my life; and I would like also to help the Inspector and his

followers."

The chief mused.

"My braves follow, and will be here before the first blow is struck.

Perhaps I shall be able, at the last moment, to meet the wishes of

Mademoiselle." Julie took two or three dainty steps, and nestled her

head in the breast of her lover. Again he stroked her hair, kissed

her bright face, and murmured sweet words in her little ear. Then he

said, "I must go among the lodges, for if I am not present to join in the

counsels of the leaders, I may be suspected. Wait, Mademoiselle, in

the shelter of the bank till I come to you." There was then a little

sound like the explosion of a bubble, and Annette saw the chief raise

his head from Julie's face.

"You little rogue," she said, "how your love affairs profit by this

war." Then she tripped off to the point designated by the chief, and

lay down in the shadow with Julie at her side. It was while they lay

nestling here that the storm of yells described in another chapter

burst out. Annette shuddered and grasped the hand of her companion.

Then came the onslaught of musketry, the glare of flambeaux, and the

response from the besieged. Through the wailing of the storm came,

too, the thud, thud, thud of the choppers at the stockade, and the

straggling shots of the brave twenty-four in the Fort.

"The stockade cannot stand long," Annette whispered; "I wonder what

delays your chief?" But while the words were yet quivering upon her

lips, a figure moved swiftly towards them and whispered, "Come." And when they joined him: "I only wish to have Mademoiselle

satisfied of the escape of her deliverer and of his friends."

In a minute they were at the edge of the stockade; and, at a signal

from the chief, a little postern opened, and they were admitted.

"Follow me," he said, as he advanced, waving a small white cloth,

and the two, close at his heels, found themselves at the door of the

Fort. "Friends are here," he whispered, through his tubed hand, to a

policeman who had been watching the advancing trio from his sentry

post; "let us enter."