Annette - The Metis Spy

The Indian turned his pony, and was about retracing his steps, when

Julie rode up to him, and in her exquisitely timid little way, said

in a soft voice, "Faites mes amities a monsieur, votre chef." The Indian replied,

"Oui, oui," and urged his pony to the height of its speed. When Julie

joined her mistress there was a little rose in each cheek, and a

gleam in her faintly humid eye.

"Sending a message to her chief?" Annette said, looking at the

bright, brown beauty. "She need not have blushed at giving her

message to the brave; he thought that she was an Indian lad."

"Oh, I forgot," Julie murmured; and she pressed her deftly booted

feet against the flanks of her pony.

The savage was, evidently, not enamoured of the lonesome journey

back to his chief, for rumour had peopled every square mile of all

the plains with warriors, and with hidden assassins. And spread

across that arc of the sky where the sun had just gone down, were

troops of clouds, of crimson, and bronze and pink; and in their

curious shapes the solitary rider saw mighty horses, bestrode by

giant riders, all congregated to join in the war. He knew that these

were the spirits of chiefs who had ruled the plains long before the

stranger with the pale face came; they always assembled when great

battles were to be fought; and when their brothers began to lose

heart in the fray, they would descend from the clouds and give to

each warrior the heart of the lion, and the arm of the jaguar.

His heart swelled with a wild war-fever as these thoughts passed

through his brain. Then the darkness began to creep over the plains;

it came softly and as remorselessly as the prairie panther; and a

fear grew upon the savage. The horsemen in the sky had come nearer to

the earth; some of them had trooped across through the dusk, till

they stood directly above his head; and he fancied that several of

the figures had lowered themselves down till they almost touched him.

In the deepening dusk he could not observe what they were doing. They

at last actually reached the earth;--and three giants stood before

his horse.

"Mon Dieu," shrieked the terrified creature, and his hand lost

control over the reins. His pony did not heed the spectres, but

walked straight on. Nay, he passed so close to one of the dread

things that the Indian's arm brushed the goblin. Its touch was hard.

The man shrieked, and in a terror that stopped the beating of his

heart fell to the ground. When he arose, he found that the spectre

was not from the sky; but only a tall prairie poplar.

Pray, readers, do not laugh at the unreasonable terror of this

untutored savage. I have seen some of yourselves just as unreasonable.