Annette - The Metis Spy

"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.