Amongst the prisoners who had dared to defy Riel's power was a resolute young Canadian named Thomas Scott. Scott had refused to bow the knee to the Dictator, and Riel resolved that he should die. So on the 4th March 1870 Scott was led outside the gate of the fort, with a white handkerchief bound across his brow; his coffin, with a white sheet thrown upon it, was carried with him; his eyes were then bandaged, he was allowed a few minutes for prayer, and then told to kneel in the snow. Six half-breeds, who had been plied heavily with drink, then raised their muskets; their shots rang out, and Scott immediately fell back, pierced by three bullets. He had not been executed; he had been brutally murdered. Like wild-fire through the east flew the news of the death of Scott. Volunteers and regulars were hastily summoned. At that time there was in Canada an able Colonel of the British Army, by name Garnet Wolseley. Very few knew his name then, but he, too, was destined to be world-famous. He instantly put himself at the head of the Red River brigade and pressed on to Fort Garry to punish the impudent traitor who had dared to set Canada at defiance. The Red River brigade pressed on through bad roads, dense forests; they crossed lakes and turbulent rivers in leaky boats. A number of accidents occurred and many narrow escapes from rock and rapid. But at last through the 600 miles of wilderness Colonel Wolseley and his men of the brigade came to the neighbourhood of Fort Garry. A line of skirmishers was thrown out in advance; it was not yet known what defence "the little Napoleon," as his adherents were fond of calling Riel, would offer. To Wolseley's surprise, no banner floated from the flagstaff and the gates of the fort were open. Through the portals the Colonel and his brigade marched, angry that they had been balked of their prey. Louis Riel's courage had oozed out at the last moment, and he had fled across the Assiniboine River.
The Defeat of Louis Riel, Fish Creek, 1885
But Canada was not yet done with Louis Riel. Fifteen years passed away—years of stirring change. Thousands of colonists had poured into the new and fertile province now called Manitoba, and a flourishing city arose on the site of Fort Garry. In sullenness the half-breeds still further withdrew into the heart of the wilderness and settled on the banks of the Saskatchewan and the far Saskatchewan Valley. Silently they nourished hate against the settlers, looking to their leader Riel, who lived in exile across the American border, to come some day and avenge their wrongs.
Slowly but surely the farmers and ranchers pushed the half-breeds and hunters farther and farther, until they felt the forests slip from them. When they could bear it no longer, they sent a message to Riel to free them from the tyranny of the Canadian immigrants. Riel answered the call; he rejoiced this time in the title of Liberator, for he told the Indians and Bois-Brulés he would liberate their lands from the harvesters and ranchmen. Gathering together not only the half-breeds, but many of the red-men as well, the rebels advanced on the Canadian militia at Duck Lake and inflicted upon them a defeat. Flushed with this triumph, Riel sought the chiefs of the Cree and Black Feet tribes; he showed them how the Canadians could be driven out of the country, and the old happy, careless, prosperous days of the Indians would return. Amongst those who listened was Big Bear, chieftain of the Crees, and Crow Foot of the warlike Black Feet, besides Poundmaker and other chiefs. War and butchery ensued; helpless settlers were shot down without mercy. But Nemesis was at hand. Canada was pouring an army of redcoats into the turbulent North-West, and the fate of Riel and his deluded half-breeds and redskin followers was sealed. He himself was seized, found guilty of treason, and hanged at last for his folly and his crimes.
We have now in the pages of this book marked the Romance of Canada from that summer day nearly four centuries ago when the adventurous Cartier sailed into the Gulf of St. Lawrence and marvelled at the red-men and the beauty of the Canadian forests; we have marked the gallant Poutraincourt plan his picturesque little colony in Acadia; noted the deeds of the valiant Champlain and his loyal trust in the land for which he spent and suffered so much. Can you forget the fortitude and unquenchable heroism of the ill-fated Jesuits? The picturesque fidelity and thrilling adventures of Charles de la Tour and his brave wife; the heroic achievements of Frontenac; the fierce struggle against fate of hapless Montcalm; the glorious victory of Wolfe; the zeal and sufferings of the United Empire Loyalists, pass in a succession of pictures as we compass those three centuries of time since Canada became the settled habitation of lion-hearted men.
Gradually the ferocious red-man with his musket and tomahawk has been driven from his lodges and wigwams in the east, to make way for bustling cities and thriving towns and villages. The lakes and rivers, where the birch-bark canoes of the savage, where the daring fur-hunters once thronged, laden with the spoils of the forest, now bear on their bosoms hundreds of busy steam-boats, freighted with the produce of farm and orchard and factory. The lonely, dangerous trails along which Champlain, Frontenac, Lasalle, and Verendrye led their men have given way to steel highroads which traverse the entire Continent. Everywhere the spirit of progress has smiled upon the land, and the farms, orchards, and homesteads of Canada smile upward to the clear heavens in return.
Do not forget that Romance, though unseen by the bodily eye, never dies. It is as beautiful as the landscape or the setting sun. Search for it in the annals of the past, and each grey lake, every simple river, both hill and dale, have their stirring story to tell of valour and heroic sacrifice, of noble endurance, of patriotic deed.
Canada was not easy in the making; much blood flowed and many loyal hearts were broken before the Great Dominion arose.