Annette - The Metis Spy

"Oui, Monsieur," returned Paul, "Monsieur Stephens is a very great

favourite with our family. We are under an obligation to him that it

will be difficult ever to repay."

"Whence comes this benefactor," queried M. Riel, with an ugly sneer,

"and how has he placed you under such an obligation?" Then,

reflecting that he was showing a bitterness respecting the young man

which he could neither explain nor justify, he said: '"Mais, pardonnez-moi. Think me not rude for asking these questions.

When pretty eyes are employed to see, and pretty lips to tell of,

game for one sportsman in preference to another, the neglected one

might be excused for seeking to know in what way fortune has been

kind with his rival."

"Shall I tell the whole story, Annette" enquired Paul, or will you

do so?"

"O, I know that you will not leave anything out that can show the

bravery of Mr. Stephens," replied the girl.

"Well, last spring, Annette was spending some days with her aunt, a

few miles up Red River. It was the flood time, and as you remember,

the river was swollen to a point higher than it had ever reached

within the memory of any body in the settlement. Annette is

venturesome, and since a child has shown a keen delight in going upon

boats, or paddling a canoe; so, one day, during the visit which I

have mentioned, she went into a birch that swung in a little pond,

formed behind her uncle's premises by the over-flowing of the

stream's channel. Untying the canoe, she seized the blade and began

to paddle about in the lazy water. Presently she reached the eddies,

which, since a child, she has always called the 'rings of the

water-witches,' wherever she learned that term. Her cousin Violette was

standing in the doorway as she saw Annette move off, and she cried

out to her to beware of the eddies; but my sister, wayward and

reckless as it is her habit to be in such matters, merely replied

with a laugh; and then as the canoe began to turn round and round in

the gurgling circles she cried out.

"I am in the rings of the water-witches. C'est bon! bon! C'est

magnifique! O I wish you were with me, Violette, ma chere. It is so

delightful to go round and round." A little way beyond, not more than

twice the canoe's length, rushed by roaring, the full tide of the

river.

"Beware, Annette, beware, for the love of heaven, of the river. If

you get a little further out, and these eddies must drag you out, you

will be in the mad current, and no arm can paddle the canoe to land

out of the flood. Then, dear, there is the fall below, and the fans

of the mill. Come back, won't you! But my sister heeded not the

words. She only laughed, and began dipping water from the eddies with

the paddle-blade, as if it were a spoon she had in her hand. 'I am

dipping water from the witches-rings,' she cried. 'How the drops

sparkle! Every one is a glittering jewel. I wish you were here with

me, Violette!' Suddenly and in an altered tone, she cried, 'Mon Dieu!

My paddle is gone.' The paddle had no sooner glided out into the

rushing, turbulent waters than the canoe followed it, and Annette saw

herself drifting on to her doom. Half a mile below was the fall, and

at the side of the fall, went ever and ever around with tremendous

violence, the rending fans of the water-mill. Annette knew full well

that any drift boat, or log, or raft, carried down the river at

freshet-flow, was always swept into the toils of the inexorable

wheels. Yet, if she were reckless and without heed a few minutes

before, I am told that now she was calm. Violette gave the alarm that

Annette was adrift in the river without a paddle, and in a few

seconds every body living near had turned out, and was running down

the shore. Several brought paddies, but it took hard running to keep

up with the canoe, for the flood was racing at a speed of eight miles

an hour. When they did get up in line each one flung out a paddle.

But one fell too far out, and another not far enough. About fifteen

men were along the banks in violent excitement, and every one of them

saw nothing but doom for Annette. As the canoe neared a point about

two hundred yards above the falls, a young white-man--all the rest

were bois-brules--rushed out upon the bank, with a paddle in his

hand, and without a word sprang into the mad waters. With a few

strokes he was at the side of the canoe, and put the paddle into

Annette's hand. 'Here;' he said, 'Keep away from the mill; that is

your only danger; and steer sheer over the falls, getting as close as

possible to the left bank.' The height of the fall, as you are aware,

was not more than fifteen or eighteen feet, and there was plenty of

water below, with not very much danger from rocks. 'Go you on shore

now and I will meet my doom, or achieve my safety,' my sister said;

but the young man answered, 'Nay, I will go over the fall too: I can

then be of some service to you.' So he swam along by the canoe's side

directing my sister, and shaping the course of the prow on the very

brink of the fall. Then all shot over together. The canoe and

Annette, and the young man were buried far under the terrible mass of

water, but they soon came to the surface again, when the heroic

stranger seized my sister, and through the fury of the mad churning

flood, landed her unhurt upon the bank. That young man was Philip

Edmund Stephens, whom you saw here this morning. Is it any wonder,

think you, Monsieur, that when Annette sees wild turkeys upon the

prairie, she keeps the knowledge of it to herself till she gets the

ear of her deliverer?