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,