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.

"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."

The policeman retreated, and in a moment reappeared with the Inspector and Captain Stephens at his side.

"Who are you?" asked the Inspector in a low voice.

"Friends." Then Annette said, in a distinct voice:

"Monsieur Stephens may remember me?"

"The Indian boy who warned me of my danger!" he exclaimed, turning to the Inspector. "You may admit them." In a moment Tall Elk was inside.

"I am a Cree chief, and twenty of my braves are friendly. When the Indians break through the stockade I shall guard this door, and you can pass out. Go directly to the river, and at the pier you will find a boat waiting. Then the river is clear before you to Battleford." Saying these words the chief was gone, the two Indian boys following him.

At this moment a chorus of yelling, more infernal than any which had been heard before, arose, and, brandishing their weapons, the horde of infuriated savages began to pour through a large gap in the stockade.

"Follow me, my men," whispered the Inspector, and with Stephens at his side he descended into the yard where the smoke from burning torches was so dense that the whole party passed through the group of friendly braves without attracting the attention of the hostile savages. They very speedily gained the river and found a large York boat, of shallow draught, which they pushed out into the slow sweep of tide. The chief was nowhere to be seen; but the two mysterious and beautiful Indian boys hovered along the gloomy brink of the river, frequently turning apprehensive eyes towards the Fort. As the boat moved downward so did they, flitting along like a pair of guardian angels. Immediately beside them they perceived a fierce-looking Indian, glaring through the dark upon the water.

He had evidently just perceived the boat, for, uttering a loud alarm- yell, he turned and was making off toward the Fort to give the tidings.

"Stop," shouted Annette, in clear, thrilling Cree.

The savage stood a moment, and glared at this handsome lad of his tribe.

"If you move a step I shoot you. Drop to the ground."

The Indian stood irresolute, but the girl made a sudden bound forward and held the glittering barrel of her revolver in his face.

"You are a Cree?" he inquired, in a voice quivering with an odd mixture of fear and rage.

"I am."

"Why don't you let me alarm the braves? The police are escaping."

"The Cree boy will not give his reasons; but his brother must obey." The Indian stood looking upon Annette as if endeavouring to scan her features; and as if to help him in his object, a flash of flame from a burning building in the Fort shone for a moment upon the boy, and showed the cowardly warrior a pair of large, soft eyes, fringed with long lashes; a sweet oval face, and a delicate little hand. The sudden observation seemed to fill him with contempt and courage, and turning he bounded away with another wild yell.

Annette did not lower her arm, but she shut one of her eyes and fired, once, twice at the running savage. Up went the wretch's arms and he fell upon the plain.

"Let us away Julie, the shots may bring some stragglers," and the two girls bounded along for nearly half a mile, when they were again in line with the barge.

"Boat ahoy," shouted Annette. "When you near the first island keep away to your right. There is a bar with sharp rocks in your way." A low musical,

"Merci mon petit ami" came to the shore; and Annette whispered:

"It is Monsieur Stephens who gives me thanks." Then straightening herself up, "It is time we got our horses; come." They hastened away to the little grove, folded the tent, saddled the horses, and in a few moments were galloping again towards the river. As they neared the bank they heard a tempest of yelling up the plain toward the Fort: and after listening for a moment, Annette said,

"The savages have discovered the flight, and they are now in