BETWEEN TWO 
 REBELLIONS 
 
 
 ASENJCTH CARVER/ COOXJDGE 
 
($>*mll Hwwmtg f£ itog 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 H 
 
 j\..Xb\%'i(.-x. I U%. 
 
 3513-2 
 
Between two rebellions. 
 
 3 1924 022 342 574 
 
Cornell University 
 Library 
 
 The original of this book is in 
 the Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022342574 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
Copyrighted 1908 
 Asenath Carver Coolidge 
 
 HUNGER FORD-HOLBROOK CO. 
 WATERTOWN, N.Y. 
 

Between Two Rebellions 
 
 By Asenath Carver Coolidge 
 
 Author of "Prophet of Peace," "The Independence Day Horror 
 at Killsbury," "Robert Fleming's Christmas Mum- 
 mery, ' ' ' 'Ira Furor Brevis Est, ' ' and many 
 other short stories and poems 
 
 % 
 
 "Tell me if your Princes use not a pretext of Right when they levy Arms?" 
 "No doubt," answered I "& the Justice of their cause too." 
 "Then why," replied she, "do they not chuse Impartial & Unsuspected Ar- 
 bitrators to settle their differences? and if it be found that each has as much 
 Right as the other, let things continue as they were ; or play a game of Picket 
 for the Town or Province in dispute," — Cyra?w De Bergerac, 
 
 « 
 
 ^atertown, jft. 
 1909 
 

 " * * * instead of crying for old black nursie and the aesthetic fireplace." p. 22 
 
Preface 
 
 OF all wars, none are so sinful, wasteful and 
 brutal as civil wars ; and of all civil wars 
 with which the last century was afflicted, none was 
 so uncivil and unmerciful or so deplorable and 
 lasting in its effects as the American Civil War. 
 Its cost in money was estimated long ago. It 
 amounted to many billions of dollars — more than 
 enough to have bought every slave in the South 
 and sent them back to Africa free in limb and with 
 life-pensions in their pockets ! 
 
 But no true estimate ever has been made of the 
 human wrecks, the home-wrecks and the heart- 
 breaks it caused; and no tongue has ever told one 
 half of the awful struggles that occurred on the 
 terrible battlefields ; but when such men as Grant 
 and Sherman, who were in the thick of the fight, 
 said that "war is hell" and they never wished to 
 see any more of it, we knew what it meant. It 
 meant that they saw fathers, sons and brothers 
 arrayed against each other — slaying each other 
 without mercy, or gnashing at each other like wild 
 beasts. They saw sights that they never had the 
 
Preface 
 
 courage to tell — sights which if they could have 
 had the courage to tell, or describe in living colors 
 to the vast crowds of people which they were called 
 on to speak to in after years, the hideous war- 
 game and all other life-destroying games, would 
 now be things of the past. Unfortunately, there 
 is a tacit agreement among military men that the 
 horrors of war should not be told, that they must 
 "stand by their guns," and say nothing of its ter- 
 rors. Where is the man outside of the murder- 
 mart, who can stand by his conscience and say that 
 the miseries of war are not the miseries that ought 
 to be told, or that to hide them away and talk 
 only of war's glory, is the way to cure the nations 
 of this monstrous evil and speed the time when 
 "The Warrior's name will not only 'be a name ab- 
 horred' but they who bow down and worship it or 
 exalt it in any way will be lpoked upon as idiots 
 or idolaters, rather than generous hearted men 
 and women, doing their patriotic duty. To speak 
 plainly, man-killer is the Warrior's true name, 
 and the sooner we cease our oblations and begin 
 to call him by that name, the sooner will the mil- 
 lenial of Peace begin to come — the dawn of the 
 new day when 'Every nation that shall lift again 
 its hand against a brother, on its forehead shall 
 wear forevermore the curse of Cain.' " 
 
 This is strong language but it is poetical and 
 
 is accepted as unquestionably by Peace-promoters 
 
 as "Thou shalt not kill" is by Bible-believers. 
 
 Why then should they hesitate to blame the pro- 
 
 vi 
 
Preface 
 
 moters of militarism wherever they are found? 
 Why should not the enormously rich who praise- 
 professional men-killers, make men-killing attrac- 
 tive to soldiers and give their surplus millions to 
 carry on the wars of nations, be privately entreat- 
 ed to renounce the practice or publicly censured 
 if they continue it? Why should not the rich of- 
 fenders of blessed Peace be blamed as well as the 
 nations they represent? Indeed! why should not 
 the Peace-makers of all the world make a ringing 
 appeal to Bertha Krupp to cease from manufac- 
 turing the awful man-killing instruments, without 
 which it is 'admitted that Europe could no longer 
 carry on its accursed wars? 
 
 Such appeals might be called insane; but the 
 new feminine insanity of life-saving and world- 
 building, would be far better than the old mas- 
 culine insanity of man-killing and world destruc- 
 tion. 
 
 Asenath Carver Coolidge, 
 Watertown, N. Y., 1908. 
 
 vn 
 
DrDtratrD 
 
 To m\ Father 
 
 Alfred Coolidge 
 A pioneer of Northern New )~ork, who felled forest trees, 
 raised fine crips and horses, drove a fine span down 
 to Bordentown, New 'Jersey ; called on foseph 
 Bonaparte and swapped the horses for 
 goodly acres of land -which the Roy- 
 alist had bought for prospective 
 hunting parks or spec- 
 ulative purposes. 
 
Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 i. Zadkiel's Efforts to Economize in Fuel 1 1 
 
 ii. Ione's Dream 16 
 
 in. Rumors of War 25 
 
 iv. Writing Valentines 33 
 
 v. Jeremiah Grayson and His Fated Sons 38 
 
 vi. The Fate of Ione's Valentine .... 51 
 vii. Clement Osborne, LL. D., Tries His 
 
 Own Case 56 
 
 viii. The Morning After the Rupture . . 61 
 
 ix. Uncle Jacques' Consent 66 
 
 x. Zadkiel's Mother and Her Almanacian 
 
 Faith 70 
 
 xi. Zadkiel Complains and Biddy Explains 79 
 
 xii. The Red River Rebellion 90 
 
 xiii. Bridget Says There's No Right Side to 
 
 War 99 
 
 xiv. Annette Maury's Journey no 
 
 xv. Why Otter Tail City Was Named 
 
 Otter Tail City 115 
 
 xvi. The Half Breed Powwow 123 
 
 xvii. News Items at the Camp of Medicine 
 
 Hat Bill 130 
 
 ix 
 
Contents 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 xvm. Root Grumpy's Drunken Wit .... 137 
 xix. The Recognition and Discovery . . . 143 
 xx. The Morning After the Capture ... 150 
 xxi. Mrs. Duiveland's Boarding House for 
 
 Men Only 161 
 
 xxii. Those Troublesome Valentines ... 167 
 xxin. A Landlady Who Goes to Market in 
 
 a Carriage 172 
 
 xxiv. Ione's Confession 175 
 
 xxv. Jerold Worthington Buys a Christmas 
 
 Present for His August Landlady 187 
 xxvi. Bridget Explains Saff Walkup's Ex- 
 altation to the Grayson Carriage 
 
 Box 193 
 
 Zadkiel Promises Not to Go Hunting 
 
 for the Right Side of War Again 199 
 
 A Quadruple Wedding 209 
 
 The Duiveland Mystery and Travesty 
 
 — Words of Charity and Cheer . 215 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 xx VIII. 
 
 xxix. 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 zadkiel's efforts to economize in fuel. 
 
 I ONE Grayson was muffled ear-deep in a vol- 
 uminous Navajo blanket. Her heavy black 
 hair bravely innocent of frizzes or bangs hung 
 over her shoulders like a sombre mantle. Her 
 cheeks were of rosy brightness and to look at them 
 one would judge that she would be able to defy the 
 coldest atmosphere of the coldest house in the cold 
 Laurentian valley in which the old Grayson home 
 was situated. But the Grayson house, instead of be- 
 ing the coldest, was one of the warmest for miles 
 around. Thick-walled, low-storied and wisely set 
 under a rim of sheltering hills, it stood as a solid 
 rebuke and example to the castellated structures 
 which are reared foolishly into air for hyperbo- 
 rean blasts to scoff at. The heating arrangements 
 of the house showed the same kind of weather-wis- 
 dom. A huge box stove occupied an important 
 space in a small room, designed by the builder, 
 
 11 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 rather as a hot air chamber from which the sur- 
 rounding apartments were to obtain essential 
 warmth than as a living room for the family. The 
 stove was furnished with an arrangement of pipes 
 and a cylindrical drum, intended to give out a sec- 
 ond edition of heat; but which the uninitiated 
 might have easily mistaken for a cannon of no 
 mean caliber. 
 
 This formidable weapon against winter's cold, 
 at the time of which we write, was doing its duty 
 bravely. Zadkiel, the man of the house, had pro- 
 nounced it "busting hot" and retreated to his fav- 
 orite corner by the old wide-mouthed dining-room 
 fire place. Aunt Judith Grayson, the mistress, 
 called the room dreadful stuffy, and went to the 
 kitchen to mark out the day's work. Rachael Gray- 
 son moved on to the library, the temperature of 
 which was moderated by an open door and a pipe 
 through the wall. Even Biddy, who had built up 
 the fire to its present dimensions, with the kind in- 
 tention of making it warm enough for Miss lone, 
 after tidying up the hearth, returned to the kitch- 
 en with a blazing face, and in a voice just loud 
 enough to be heard by the grumbling Zadkiel, re- 
 lieved her conscience as follows : 
 
 "If me young mistress wud only sleep in wool 
 kiverlids and geese fithers and sthop sphlattering 
 in cold water so long o' mornings, it wud be better 
 for hersilf and the fuel, it's me belaif. She sphlat- 
 ters and splashes that long til her little hands be 
 as red as ducks' feet, the which were intended to 
 
 12 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 wade in cold water and no misthake; but it all 
 comes iv being born in a red hot southern kintry 
 iv which she hadn't the selection hersilf, puir 
 child," added Biddy pathetically. 
 
 "She will learn in time," replied Aunt Judith, 
 who inclined to take a cheerful view of her niece's 
 southern habits. "She bundles up more than she 
 did when she goes out sleighing, and she promises 
 to wear the fur cap with ear-lappets, which I gave 
 her for Christmas, the next time she goes." 
 
 "But she waddles hersilf up in the wrong diric- 
 tion," said Biddy, lowering her voice to a confi- 
 dential tone. "The inside garments have no more 
 worrumth than the foam iv the sea. Joost the look 
 iv thim sthrikes to the marrow iv me bones loike a 
 cup iv icickle tay." 
 
 Aunt Judith smiled and Zadkiel, who had prick- 
 ed up his ears when Biddy's voice went down, re- 
 laxed his hold of a stub of a pencil with which he 
 was preparing to figure up the number of extra 
 cords of wood he would have to furnish unless he 
 could manage to stop the reckless waste which was 
 going on. He had prided himself not a little on 
 his successful management of the fuel question be- 
 fore Ione's advent and that of the Hibernian ser- 
 vant ; and when he noticed Ione's inclination to 
 use the heating room for a sitting-room it oc- 
 curred to him that he might be able to reduce the 
 expense of this department still farther. In fact, 
 to have it thus used was one of the economical 
 reforms he had been anxious to make ever since 
 
 13 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 the death of Jeremiah Grayson, his late master. 
 But to have the same amount or more of fuel used, 
 after the change was made, was a reform without 
 the essence which constituted its sole attractiveness 
 to his scheming mind. 
 
 "If I could only manage that pesky Biddy," 
 Zadkiel said to himself, "I shouldn't have tu burn 
 up everything in winter that I can make for 'em in 
 summer ; but I vum if I know just how tu git hold 
 of the onreasonable creetur." 
 
 The Irish servant was a new character to Zad- 
 kiel. Aunt Judith had always been able to obtain 
 house-maids of her own nationality until now and 
 had finally taken Biddy with about as much fear 
 and trembling, as though she had been a package 
 of dynamite. For a wonder, however, she soon be- 
 gan to like the girl, and Zadkiel was aware that his 
 prospects of having her discharged on purely 
 economic grounds, were very slight indeed. He 
 saw but one way out of the difficulty. He must 
 really "set to" and learn how to manage Biddy him- 
 self. 
 
 "O Rache ! cousin Rache !" called out lone, af- 
 ter she had got thoroughly warmed up, "let's cele- 
 brate St. Valentine's Day. We are growing 
 stupider than a pair of owlets wedged in here 
 among great billows of snow." 
 
 "Celebrate St. Valentine's Day," repeated Ra- 
 ohael, smiling upon lone from the library door. 
 "You must be getting terribly thawed out — heart 
 in a state of liquefaction — eh?" 
 
 14 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "0, dear, I hope so ! It's dreadful to be so dull 
 and frozen up. It makes me feel as though I were 
 going to die. Yes, really going to die," repeated 
 lone with a desperate emphasis on the last word, 
 which turned Rachael's smile into a look of tender 
 concern. 
 
 "We ought to have gone to the Ice Carnival, 
 lone. It would have set our blood a tingling for 
 certain. Zad could have taken us over as well as 
 not. Then Annette was so anxious you should go. 
 What do you think she'll say when you tell her 
 you were afraid to cross the river? — the harmless 
 old dragon lying so still in its winding sheet of 
 snow and ice?" 
 
 "She was going with Clem Osborne, the fellow 
 she is engaged to marry, Rache. It's a very dif- 
 ferent thing to be whisked over the river by a 
 swift little Indian pony and in a light cutter, not 
 much heavier than a pair of eagle's wings, from 
 going with old Zad in a great lumbering sleigh, 
 drawn by a pair of slow horses that weigh three 
 or four thousand pounds. We surely would have 
 been in deadly danger of going down through the 
 ice — Zad, horses and all. Then I can't see as we 
 could have had any fun if we'd got there alive. 
 Nothing to do but stand still and gape at others 
 until we turned into a pair of icicles ourselves." 
 Clem and Annette were going to take part in the 
 Wool Combers' Procession. 
 
 15 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ione's dkeam. 
 
 / / ""■"^^ ERHAPS we might have taken some 
 
 'TV 
 
 ' m_^^ part in the Carnival if we had 
 H thought of it in time," said Rach- 
 
 ael rather dubiously. 
 
 "But we didn't, anyway," replied lone, "and 
 here we are doing nothing but shiver, shiver, shiver ! 
 Not a merry day since New Years, and that wasn't 
 a genuine merry. It never is, when everything 
 turns out just as you expect, only stupider. Let's 
 do something that we don't know just what will 
 come of it." 
 
 "We don't know what will come of anything do 
 we," asked Rachael, laughing? "Not even of mak- 
 ing hoods and mittens for the orphans over in The 
 Hollow? Then you know we are to go with Aunt 
 Jude and Dominie and wife to see the children 
 gather their pence. Will not that be merriment 
 enough for old St. V—?" 
 
 "No, Rache, that won't be merry at all. Lit- 
 tle hands stretched out for alms ! Poor little f ather- 
 
 16 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 less and motherless ones asking money of strang- 
 ers ! I shall feel like crying, I know I shall. Besides 
 it's Mr. and Mrs. Garbel's work, not ours. I want 
 to do something we can do all by ourselves — all 
 the managing instead of following others' bidding 
 like a pair of soulless puppets. Do you know, 
 Rache, it was torture for me to make those 
 hoods. All after a set, stingy pattern and of such 
 coarse, homely wool, too ! If I could have been let 
 to make them as pretty as I know how, all a-fluff 
 with ribbons and tassels ; but that wouldn't have 
 suited the queer old Dominie and wife. Where 
 do you suppose they got the idea of taking the 
 children a begging on St. Valentine's Day?" 
 
 "A begging, lone! Whisper it not in The Hol- 
 low! Tell it not to Aunt Jude! The Dominie is a 
 quaint old English curate. The pence gathering 
 is an old, old English custom — almost obsolete 
 now. I believe it was practiced by poor children 
 outside of Orphan Asylums, in England — perhaps 
 before orphan asylums were invented. The ap- 
 plication may be original with the Garbels." 
 
 "I think it must be," said lone. "I never heard 
 of it before and I've heard of lots of ridiculous 
 things. There's the poor little nigger young- 
 ones for instance. In their own country they say 
 the priests spit in their faces instead of baptizing 
 them. If they had been treated like that in the 
 South what a hue and cry there would have been !" 
 
 "Certainly, and yet it isn't nearly as bad after 
 all, as singeing babies over the fire, or drawing 
 
 2 17 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 them through holing stones, as they used to do in 
 England ; but that was three or four hundred years 
 ago," added Rachael, "when people were not sup- 
 posed to be civilized." 
 
 "About the time the Garbels were born," laugh- 
 ed lone, "I wonder they don't do it. It would be 
 almost as merry as going a begging." 
 
 "But they are good old souls, Onie, they would 
 give away their last dollar to any one in need." 
 
 "Yes, they are too good — suicidally good! I 
 can't believe we have any right to impoverish our- 
 selves any more then we have to impoverish others. 
 When we strip ourselves to clothe another we are 
 not improving the world at large and I can't think 
 that I would make a prettier pauper in the good 
 Lord's sight, than anybody else. I couldn't be a 
 merry pauper either." 
 
 "Pretty good ! cousin lone ; but I'm afraid we'd 
 find old St. Valentine about as hard to get fun out 
 of as the Garbels and their orphans," said Rachael, 
 going back to Ione's proposition. "Only think of 
 straining our brains to write poor but loving po- 
 etry to a pair of young men we don't care a rush 
 for — a lovely pair who would like as not ferret out 
 our hand-writing and make fun of us for our pains. 
 It strikes me that wouldn't be very merry either." 
 
 "But we can study up a way of doing it with- 
 out making simpletons of ourselves, Rache. We 
 needn't write poetry at all if we can't ; but I think 
 you could if you tried." 
 
 "O fie, Onie!" exclaimed Rachael blushing and 
 
 18 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 hesitating at the flat denial she was tempted to 
 make, lest she might appear as a warning example 
 of ill-spent time to her young cousin — "rhymery 
 isn't poetry, Onie." 
 
 "But rhymery such as you could make would do 
 charmingly well for a valentine, Rache. There's 
 no call for heroic verse. I would write prose, of 
 course, or select something. Nearly all the poets 
 of the world have tried their hands at valentines, 
 have they not ? So you see it can't be so very silly, 
 after all." 
 
 "Yes, there's Chaucer and Herrick and Gower," 
 said Rachael, going to the library and handing 
 down the books ; "and here's one from Gay. An 
 old ancient ! Just listen !" 
 
 "A-field I went amid the morning dew, 
 To milk my kine, for so should housewives do. 
 Thee first I spied, and the first swain we see, 
 In spite of fortune, shall our true love be." 
 
 "With field and morning dew changed to stable 
 and odorous hay, this might do for Biddy," laugh- 
 ed Rachael, " that is if she could forestall Zad with 
 Spot and Brindle." 
 
 "Bridget! Bridget! Where in the world are 
 you?" called out Aunt Judith from the kitchen. 
 
 The cousins laughed; they had an idea that 
 Bridget had been listening "just a blessid minyit" 
 to their conversation, but it did not occur to them 
 that she would try to gather a little merriment 
 for herself out of the instructions they had un- 
 wittingly furnished. 
 
 19 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Isn't it strange," said lone, after reading val- 
 entines from a dozen authors, "that among so 
 many I can't find one to suit?" 
 
 "Perhaps the Duke of Orleans would be more 
 in harmony with your mood, lone. He wrote val- 
 entines while he was cooped up in an English 
 prison. He must have been worse off for diver- 
 sion than snow-prisoners like ourselves." 
 
 "No, there's no voice for imprisonment like ours, 
 Rache. I'm afraid we shall have to write our own 
 valentines to have them at all harmonious. Per- 
 haps we could do better than we think. I would 
 like to show my good will to the old saint any- 
 way." 
 
 "We can do that without injury to pen and pa- 
 per," said Rachael, teasingly. "We might get up 
 before sunrise and catch hold of somebody and 
 make them give us presents. Old Zad or Aunt 
 Jude for instance ; but you'd be late and then we'd 
 have to call you 'sun-burnt' and send you back 
 to bed in disgrace." 
 
 "O, Rache, don't make fun of me," exclaimed 
 lone, throwing herself down on the old chintz sofa ! 
 
 "O, dear, I don't know what does make me feel so 
 sleepy all day long ! At night I feel so wide awake ; 
 and when I do sleep I have such strange dreams. 
 Last night I dreamed I was lying in a great bed 
 of snow — under a thick, snowy coverlet with great 
 heavy icicle fringes. Soft snow drifted and drift- 
 ed over my forehead and eyes and covered me up 
 so deep that I felt warm and happy at last. After 
 20 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 a while, a balmy breath, sweet with the scent of 
 magnolias and orange blossoms, came and swept 
 the iciness from my lids and I saw two angels with 
 sunshine dripping from their wings. They took 
 me out of my snowy bed and carried me on and on, 
 towards heaven, I thought ; but the spicy fields and 
 flowery gardens were those of my dear old home. 
 I awoke with a cry of delight, only to find Biddy 
 coaxing up the fire with a bundle of shavings. 
 What a disappointment ! Only a moment more and 
 I was going to see papa and mama and Gillie and 
 old black Nursie! See them all together in my 
 dream ! You will not blame me, will, you, dear cous- 
 in, for hiding my head under the covers and crying, 
 and wishing I were up in Heaven with them — 
 with them all — I'm sure Black Nursie is there now 
 — singing the sweet old hymns?" 
 
 "You ought to have brought Black Nursie 
 along," said Rachael. "She would have made it 
 seem more like home to you and could have made 
 herself useful in many ways." 
 
 "O, no! a thousand times no, Rachie! She had 
 weak lungs. She would have suffered agonies in 
 this severe climate. We were very tender of her 
 always. Papa used to say that I nursed Aunt 
 Nursie more than Aunt Nursie nursed me. But 
 she was a sweet old soul. God pity all such, who 
 have been brought North by cruel masters to shiver 
 and suffer! Liberty for the poor creatures here 
 would be worse than slavery there !" 
 
 21 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Yes, Onie, from one point of view, but you 
 know — 
 
 "O, yes! I know, Rachie! I know slavery is 
 wrong in principle, and it never ought to have 
 been allowed in this free country ; but it was ; and 
 both the North and South were to blame for it and 
 it was a shame for them to fly at each other's 
 throats. They should have settled the matter in 
 a just and friendly way. Only think of it dear 
 cousin! More than enough money was spent on 
 that terrible war than it would have taken 
 to have bought every slave in the South — 
 yes every one of them, although there were 
 a great many — and sent them home, or to a con- 
 genial climate. It would have been an act of cruel- 
 ty or insanity to have let them loose on their 
 masters to begin with ; but after the war when their 
 best blood and treasure were spent and feelings 
 of hatred and suspicion aroused to the highest 
 point, it was a thousand times worse ; and the end 
 is not yet !" 
 
 "But they would not settle the matter amicably, 
 dear Onie ; and so we have to bear it as well as we 
 can — make such amends to each other as we can 
 for the sins of our hot-headed fathers." 
 
 "Yes ! Yes ! Rachie, and you are so good and 
 kind, all of you, even Biddy, and I ought to have 
 been glad to see her and the shavings and the com- 
 fortable stove instead of crying for old black 
 nursie and the esthetic fire-place; but I couldn't 
 help it. I am so unhappy; but it isn't because 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 I don't love you and appreciate all you do for me. 
 O, I don't know what is the matter! It must be 
 this cold, dead-looking weather; I can think of 
 nothing but rolling myself up in a heap and get- 
 ting into the warmest corner. I know I ought to 
 be ashamed of myself — ashamed to complain of 
 cold hands and feet when I think of the horrible 
 agony of our poor fathers on the awful battle- 
 field ! O ! what a silly weakling I am ! — but I will 
 not give up to it — I will not ;" and so saying, she 
 sprang from the sofa, went to the window and 
 looked out on the fast falling snow with a spirit 
 of brave determination. 
 
 Rachael could not say a word. She turned to 
 the library to put back the volumes. 
 
 "Isn't this odd," said lone, who was soon at her 
 side, smiling as brightly as though tears and tem- 
 pests of passion, or even the smaller aches and 
 pains, were unknown to her. "This from the 
 Monk of Bury to Queen Catherine? Another odd- 
 ity is that I should open the book just at this 
 place." She read it aloud in her pretty way : 
 
 "Such as ben pricke with cupid's mocioun 
 Tayking they'r choyse as they'r sorte doth falle 
 But I love oon which excelleth all." 
 
 "Cupid's mocioun means Cupid's arrow, doesn't 
 it," asked lone? 
 
 "Yes," said Rachael, who had just discovered 
 she had been putting the books back wrong end 
 up ; "and the inference is that we must be pricked 
 with it, or fall in love as a preparatory measure." 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "No, not really, Rache. All we have to do is 
 to fancy ourselves in love. The old Monk's love 
 for the queen must have been of this kind. Poor 
 old monk! Probably he had too many lonely 
 hours as girls out of school do now.. O dear ! dear ! 
 I wish I could go to school over again. I think 
 it's dreadful to be 'finished,' don't you Rache!" 
 
 "Yes, cousin, and I never intend to be," said 
 Rachael, decisively. 
 
 "But everybody says a girl 'is finished' when 
 she gets through school," said lone. 
 
 "But everybody ought not to say so, and we 
 ought not to think so, if they do," said Rachael, 
 with an air of sincere conviction that admitted of 
 no further argument. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 HUMORS OF WAR. 
 
 ZADKIEL entered the room soon after the 
 conversation between the cousins and 
 found them standing with locked arms 
 looking out on the> increasing storm in 
 wrapt silence. 
 
 "Here's a letter for lone Grayson. It looks 
 like her own fine hand-writing, and it's about the 
 size of one of them big snow-flakes she's looking 
 at," said Zadkiel. "Don't thej look purty, though 
 — a sailing down so softly as though they were 
 afraid of hurting somebody ; but they'r stick- 
 tights they are. You ought to see the ladder a 
 setting up against the haystack. It looks like a 
 string of feathered out loops. Jacob's ladder 
 couldn't have been purtier. I call such a storm as 
 this, a picking of the heavenly geese. It's a sign 
 of spring. There's always the biggest flurry at 
 the end of winter." 
 
 "My letter is from Annette," explained lone. 
 
 25 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "I know it," replied Rachael. She's the only 
 one who writes in your rather peculiar hand." 
 
 "I hope you didn't think. I had been writing to 
 myself, Zad," laughed lone; "but who brought it 
 through all this storm?" 
 
 "Waal, it took that big Saff Walkup and his 
 big dog Spunk, to fetch that teenty-tonty thing," 
 replied Zadkiel. "They tramp back and forwards 
 in all sorts of weathers. Fact is they ain't good 
 for nothing but tramps, weather or no weather. 
 They'r thawing off their shanks by the kitchen 
 stove and making puddles of water big enough 
 to go ia fishing in and no objections from Biddy 
 O'Conner, 'ayther'." 
 
 Having relieved his mind on the Walkup sub- 
 ject, he turned to Rachael and asked a question, 
 which from its regular recurrence, they had dubbed 
 "the semi-weekly." 
 
 "And what du the papers say they are doing 
 over in Rewshy now?" 
 
 "0 ! I f ogot to tell you, Zad. The wretches are 
 fighting. The Russians have advanced on the Af- 
 ghans in spite of the English treaty. Then there's 
 a rumor that Riel is getting up another rebellion 
 in Canada." 
 
 Zadkiel waited until she hunted up the papers 
 and pointed out the exact paragraphs, then seizing 
 them tightly between his thumb and fore-finger, 
 he left the room. 
 
 Annette Maury wrote to say how much she en- 
 joyed the great Ice Carnival and to scold lone and 
 
 26 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 her cousin for not meeting her there. She gave a 
 vivid description of the wool grower's procession 
 with the characters which she and her lover repre- 
 sented, left modestly out; for which reason the 
 characters of "Bishop Blazius" and "Jason of the 
 Golden Fleece," may have been drawn in higher 
 relief than they otherwise would have been. Both 
 of them were great friends of Clem's and that cir- 
 cumstance may have given zest to Annette's de- 
 scription. 
 
 Rachael at least was quite fired by it, and re- 
 gretted more than ever that they did not go to the 
 carnival, especially on Ione's account, who, she 
 plainly saw, really needed rousing up. She had 
 consented to the valentine scheme for invigoration 
 provided they could decide who to send them to; 
 still she felt that an ice carnival would have been 
 better; but a thought struck her.. 
 
 "O lone! suppose we take Bishop Blazius and 
 Jason for our valentines ! They don't know us, 
 nor we them ; so they could not be flattered if they 
 find us out. Besides we can imagine them to be 
 the possessors of all the virtues of those old he- 
 roic characters. We can fly high then?" 
 
 "That would be splendid," cried lone, clapping 
 her hands in great glee; "but, Rache, if we only 
 knew a little something about them — that is, I 
 mean if they are married or unmarried. We don't 
 want any jealous wives in the case." 
 
 "They wern't so particular in old Samuel Pepy's 
 time," said Rachael, laughing. "He tells of a fel- 
 
 27 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 low that drew his wife's name for a valentine and 
 came to their bed-side early in the morning to 
 claim her. They got their valentines by drawing 
 lots, or names written on billets in those days. 
 They wore the billets over their hearts or pinned 
 on their sleeves, after they were drawn. You see 
 it was easier than our way." 
 
 "I wouldn't like that, though — to be claimed by 
 any vulgar coot ; and I know you wouldn't, Rache." 
 
 "No, Onie, I prefer the reformed valentine if I 
 must have one and return thanks to Francis de 
 Salle who discovered that it was heathenish and 
 lewd to permit boys to draw girls' names and 
 make vulgar claims on them in consequence ; and 
 so had the names of the unreachable saints put in 
 their places." 
 
 "Why Rache ; it seems to me you know a great 
 deal about valentines for one who does not care for 
 them," said lone, laughing. 
 
 "It's not due to original or rather intentional 
 research, Onie. I happened to be with Aunt Sue 
 once when she was hunting up the saint's history 
 for her scholars." 
 
 "Which will you have, Rache, Bishop Blazius 
 or Jason ?" 
 
 "If I'm to try a poem, Jason would be a more 
 inspiring figure than the wool-combing Blazius." 
 
 "And I would prefer St. Blaze," said lone; — 
 "but I do wish we knew if they were married — this 
 Mr. Frank Brownlow and Mr. Jerold Worthing- 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ton. Mr! Mr! It's always Mr. whether a man is 
 married, unmarried or — widowered!" 
 
 "Widowered ! You've invented a new word to be- 
 gin with, Onie. It's a pretty good match, though. 
 I don't see why widower can't be changed into a 
 participial adjective as well as widow; but I think 
 widowly and widowing might better be dropped, as 
 the old widual has been, and save the trouble of 
 matching." 
 
 "Yes, our language needs reforming like lots 
 of other things. What a cumbersome thing it is 
 getting to be with its ridiculous words and silent 
 letters !" said lone. 
 
 "Do you know, lone, they used to have a mas- 
 trass to match master? Then they had a mister 
 to match mistress, or for analogy's sake, the lin- 
 guists say. Now, Miss and Mrs., are supposed to 
 be used for convenience sake ; but it begins to look 
 as though they were used to save the masculine 
 mind from undue curiosity. I suppose you would 
 like to have Mr. and Master used for a similar pur- 
 pose — that is, to save the feminine mind from un- 
 due curiosity." 
 
 "Why not, Rache? I never thought of it before, 
 but I don't see why we should be left in the dark 
 on a point where our brothers are especially il- 
 luminated. Perhaps that's where we get our repu- 
 tation for greater curiosity. It makes me think 
 of Sally Prior of the Boarding School. 'Silly Pry- 
 er,' we called her, because she took so much pains 
 to find out the matrimonial condition of every 
 
 29 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 new man that made his advent in Westbridge soci- 
 ety. She was pointed at as a particularly femi- 
 nine development, but if all womankind should take 
 refuge under the title of Miss, I wonder how many 
 Silly Fryers there would be on the other side?" 
 
 Ione's criticism of a slight defect, or partiality 
 in the English language, may seem small indeed 
 compared at least with great or widely alarm- 
 ing events ; but that does not prove that the 
 tendency of the human mind to take hold of 
 small matters, when great ones are not at 
 hand, is a bad one. It must be a poor dead 
 kind of soul that can only be wrought upon 
 by loud-sounding disasters. That must needs 
 have war, or famine or flood or cyclones to rouse 
 it into action. There is so much that needs mend- 
 ing everywhere. So many little odds and ends of 
 justice to be taken up and woven into the texture 
 of human affairs. So much to be done to prevent 
 these same wars and disasters and make the world 
 a decently secure and happy one. Even the adop- 
 tion of a new word into a language may show the 
 birth of a new idea as surely as the droppihg of 
 an old one does the death of a barbarous custom. 
 Nor was she wrong in thinking that almost any 
 action is better than deathly inertness — because 
 action brings experience and a great many ex- 
 periences will in time make up a sum of wisdom 
 of sufficient value not to be altogether despicable. 
 
 The cousins did not justify themselves to the 
 above extent; but after due discussion they de- 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 cided that curiosity was not an especially feminine 
 trait, and that the desire to know whether the 
 young men in question were married or not, was 
 quite proper ; but there was no time for finding out. 
 In fact, it would hardly have been possible in their 
 case. A young man might have gone to town 
 through the drifts and blinding snow with less 
 ado than these delicately housed girls could have 
 gone to the upper stable to see old Brindle's calf. 
 
 It was a simple thing apparently — the writing 
 of a pair of valentines by a pair of inexperienced 
 girls ; but it involved the same questions and ad- 
 vanced to the same limitations of more important 
 matters. 
 
 "I could find out easy enough all you want 
 to know about the young men if I could only go 
 across the river," said Rachael, "but Zad would 
 take such a proposal so obstinately that he would 
 be all day harnessing up the horses. Aunt Ju- 
 dith would demand twenty-four reasons better than 
 I could give and Bid would howl about the 'drid- 
 flenis of the danger.' " 
 
 "And I wouldn't dare to have you go, even if 
 there were time," said lone, to whom the old river 
 looked like a conglomeration of dragon's mouths 
 lying under a flimsy veil and ready to part at the 
 slightest breath to take the traveller in. "Suppose 
 we shut our eyes and get an impression, in the 
 good old Quaker style." 
 
 "I'll trust that part to you," said Rachael. 
 
 31 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "You can just as well get two impressions as one, 
 while you are about it." 
 
 lone shut her eyes at once and looked as solemn 
 as a sphynx for the next five minutes. Then she 
 opened them mischievously and said j 
 
 "My dear friend and co-laborer, it has been 
 'borne in upon me' that Franklin Brownlow is un- 
 married and Jerold Worthington is widowered." 
 
 "I accept your imp-ression," replied Rachael, 
 "and if Mr. Worthington happens to have a wife, 
 my excuse will be that he ought to have been 
 called Mr. Jane Worthington, or whatever her 
 name may be. The defense would be unique." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE WRITING OF THE VALENTINES. 
 
 HAVING settled matters to their mutual 
 satisfaction, the cousins separated to 
 write the valentines. Rachael went to 
 the library and read over and over 
 again the old legend of The Golden Fleece, while 
 lone, fortified against draughts by shawls and foot- 
 muff, sat at an upper window ; and looking out and 
 around, between the pauses of her restless pencil, 
 drew such babble as she could from the snow-clad 
 objects that met her view. 
 
 Zad's "feathered-out ladder" was not within her 
 range, but there were trees, shrubberies, vines and 
 a bird-house, all as gracefully outlined as that 
 could be, and the more she looked at them, the 
 more wonderful they seemed. It was not an every- 
 day sight even in this stormy northern region to 
 see the snow doing such cunning work — piling up 
 flake after feathery flake on the smallest branches 
 and the narrowest projections — outlining them as 
 skillfully as an artist's crayon could have done. 
 
 3 33 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 How it had managed to pile up so many on that 
 little ledge above the parlor window she could 
 not see, though it had been falling for a day and 
 a half. She wondered how long it was going to 
 keep on — this "picking of the heavenly geese," 
 as Zad called it; but even while she looked, the 
 flakes grew wider apart and smaller and pale 
 gleams of sunshine opened new vistas and intensi- 
 fied the white tracery which was wrought on ev- 
 ery object far and near. No wonder her valentine 
 had a heavy tracery of snow in it, and read as fol- 
 lows: 
 
 "Dear Bishop Blazius : Think of me and pity 
 me on this blessed saint's day and meet me in some 
 spirit-room of the bright sky, where giant snow 
 cannot come and pile up a cold wall between us, 
 nor veil us from each other's sight, as he is now 
 veiling the sweet earth from the blue heavens. 
 
 "Birds will choose their own this day, but not 
 here in cold, ghostly northland. They will sing their 
 loves among laurel jungles and orange groves; 
 for cold is the snow that wraps their hyperborean 
 homes. I am looking down on a pretty house 
 built on purpose for them. Alas ! how desolate it 
 is ! A great crown of snow is on its tiny roof. 
 The little doors are filled with little snow drifts. 
 The cunning porches are piled with snow. Every 
 bit of ornament is outlined with it. Every twig 
 and hanging vine is covered with it. The tall, 
 dark pines that stand by it, like giant sentinels, 
 are hooded and mantled with it; but the bird's 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 house, my dear Blazius, is only my own house in 
 miniature, except that the doors are open and the 
 owners have flown away. They have done just as 
 they should do. I have done just as I should 
 not do ; for is it not a sin to shiver and 
 sigh in coldness and loneliness, when the soul has 
 wings and can fly to another soul and be happy ? 
 
 "I know thou wilt say it is, and so my dear Bla- 
 zius I will open the soul's doors, even as the bird- 
 house doors are open, and I will fly over the giant 
 walls of snow — over the sheeted pastures, the muf- 
 fled rivers and the white, still billows to meet thee ; 
 and we will laugh and talk and be merry. 
 
 "I will say, 'thou art more charming than thy 
 great-great-grandfather, Blazius. His was a charm 
 that drew thorns out of mortal flesh and bones out 
 of human throats; but thine is a charm that can 
 unchoke the throat of song and draw words of 
 love out of the deep fountains of the heart. His 
 was a light of countenance that could cure tooth- 
 ache, but thou hast a light of eye that can lift 
 black shadows from the spirit and cure achings 
 of every kind. His was a genius that invented the 
 art of combing wool; but thou canst transform a 
 fleece of wool into a mitre and wand which enchant 
 all beholders. 
 
 "After this we might quarrel a little. I might 
 find fault with our skyey apartments. I might 
 say that the pink or blue wall was a shade too 
 faint or deep — the sunset dado of a too stiff 
 or rambling pattern — the ether too thick or 
 
 35 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 thin, too cold or warm. Then there would be warm 
 words, scalding tears and then and then — what 
 could we do but choose each other over again? For 
 though like the ancient Saxon maid I should wrap 
 thy name in clay and sink it in water, sea-deep, I 
 know it would rise again and none other could be 
 my loved and loving valentine. 
 
 "Thine ceaselessly, 
 
 Patience Snowedin. 
 "Feb. 14, Icefringe Cottage, 
 
 "Hyperborean City, 
 
 "N.P. (North Pole.)" 
 Rachael's valentine was dated from Question 
 Station, Nowhere Valley, and proceeded to ask 
 questions after this wise : 
 
 O Jason of the Golden Fleece 
 
 How didst thou win it? 
 Didst have to cross Helle's wild sea 
 
 And was there magic in it? 
 
 Didst have to build an Argo 
 
 Of pines from Pelion's mount? 
 Didst have to take for cargo 
 
 Heroes of great account? 
 
 Didst land on Colchi's shore at last, 
 
 To be dismayed 
 To sell thy soul at sight of dragon's crest 
 
 For vile Medeia's aid? 
 
 Nay! nay! Thou didst not win it thus 
 Thou art no knave. 
 
 36 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Thou mayest be less a hero but I trust 
 Thou'rt truly brave. 
 
 And who am I thou'lt ask? This mayest thou know 
 
 Medeia I am not. 
 Nor would I lap thy love in poison robes 
 
 Though slighted and forgot. 
 
 And yet if thou wert all I fancy thee 
 
 And wings were mine 
 I'd rise to skies and gladly be 
 
 Thy valentine. 
 
 "O, I like that," said lone. "I always thought 
 Jason did a mean thing when he deserted Medeia 
 for the king's daughter." 
 
 "I'm afraid we are like Diocletian with his cab- 
 bages," said Rachael, laughing. "We think they 
 are wonderfully fine because we raised them our- 
 selves ; but we'll send them anyway and see what 
 will come of it." 
 
 37 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 JEKEMIAH GRAYSON AND HIS FATED SONS. 
 
 THE fathers of Rachael and lone Gray- 
 son were brothers and American born 
 citizens ; but one had lived and been 
 educated in the cold, rugged North, 
 and the other in the sunny South, for reasons and 
 with results that call for an explanatory chapter. 
 Their father, Jeremiah Grayson, was a staunch 
 and well-to-do pioneer of the northern border, who 
 during the early days of a whole-hearted bachelor- 
 hood had been sent to Washington as a representa- 
 tive of his district and while there had fallen des-.* 
 perately in love with a beautiful but fragile young 
 girl from southern Alabama. Her father was a 
 physician and she was his only child and idol. Be- 
 ing delicate from birth, he had made a close study 
 of her physical structure in its relation to climatic 
 conditions and had come to the conclusion that a 
 more rigorous climate than the one in which she was 
 born would give her the needed vitality ; and so 
 he was "trying it by degrees," as he explained to 
 
 38 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Jeremiah Grayson on their first introduction to 
 each other. 
 
 "Washington," he said, "is midway between the 
 North and South Pole. After my daughter gets 
 well seasoned to this climate we will try Baltimore, 
 New York and so on and up." 
 
 "And so onward and upward through the St. 
 Lawrence, and the DuChene Rapids to Montreal, 
 Quebec and Greenland," laughed the young lady, 
 looking up archly into Jeremiah Grayson's ruddy 
 but healthful face. 
 
 "Really, I believe papa is plotting to make an 
 Esquimau of me. Fancy me muffled up to the eyes 
 in seal-skins and plodding around on snow-shoes, 
 Mr. Grayson!" 
 
 Jeremiah Grayson looked at the slender figure 
 adorned with fluffy lace and the tiny feet encased 
 in delicate slippers, and could not fancy her array- 
 ed in a bungling costume that would hide instead 
 of heighten such perfections. He did not say it 
 in these poor words but his looks said it very elo- 
 quently and richly. He did protest, however, very 
 forcibly and volubly against mentioning the St. 
 Lawrence in the same breath with Greenland — 
 the beautiful, the pure, the soul-inspiring, health- 
 giving old Saint ! 
 
 The more he talked about it, the more enthused 
 he grew over it, until she was fascinated and could 
 not hear him talk enough; and so and so the de- 
 scription must be continued evening after evening 
 
 39 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 until it extended through the entire length and 
 breadth of the grand old river and included the 
 better part of the surrounding country, his own 
 cozy home on its borders and finally the inmates — 
 especially the red-cheeked, healthy, cheery sister 
 who came from England to keep house for him and 
 Zaddy the little boy that he picked up from the 
 door-stone one bitter cold night, and who had just 
 enough grateful Indian blood in his veins to make 
 him want to stay with him and serve him with 
 characteristic devotion. 
 
 As may be surmised, it was a new sort of a 
 paradise that Jeremiah Grayson wittingly or un- 
 wittingly opened to the frail southern girl — a 
 paradise that fairly radiated with robust health, 
 pure living and splendid energy — in short, a para- 
 dise which she was not slow to enter ; for when his 
 legislative term was ended, and he was ready to go 
 home, she was ready to go with him and did go 
 in spite of her father's protest against skipping 
 over the intermediary climates between Washing- 
 ton and the Laurentian valley. She was not even 
 willing to wait until her mother could be sent for 
 to attend the wedding. 
 
 "O, you and mama can come up next year in the 
 lovely June — the month of sweet northern roses — 
 (not too many of them — just enough to make you 
 appreciate them.) You will come and make us 
 a long visit then and we will be married over 
 again and you will see how healthy and 
 
 40 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 happy I shall be," exclaimed the infatuated 
 daughter. 
 
 And so she was until after the birth of their sec- 
 ond child. Their first (Rachael's father), was a 
 vigorous, joyous baby from the first moment of 
 his existence. "A June Bird," Zaddy called him, 
 but the second (Ione's father) was a puny, wailing 
 infant — "a November fledgling crying to go down 
 south," he suggested. The mother was singular- 
 ly weak and nervous after its birth and in a few 
 weeks time was pronounced by the family doctor to 
 be in an alarming condition- — so very alarming that 
 her parents were sent for in great haste. As 
 soon as she became aware of the fact, she looked 
 into her husband's anxious face and said: 
 
 "Poor mama ! Poor papa ! If I should go before 
 they come, give them this, my last kiss, with my 
 love and — the baby ! Yes ! yes ! give them little 
 Homer, the baby." 
 
 Later on she fell into a deep, very deep, trance- 
 like sleep, and the doctor said "there was hope ;" 
 but the words were hardly out of his mouth when 
 she sprang up from the pillow with wide-distended 
 vision, as though she were looking at some dread 
 spectacle, and cried out: 
 
 "O Jerry ! Jerry ! hold them back ! — back from 
 the awful wilderness ! red with blood and flame !" 
 
 "What is it, love? what is it?" but no answer 
 came. A moment later she was lying dead in his 
 arms. 
 
 Her father and mother came and took the baby 
 
 41 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 — took it for their very own — to have and hold 
 and educate. Nothing less would suit them. It 
 was like tearing Jeremiah Grayson's heart out 
 afresh to make such a full surrender of his (and 
 her) own flesh and blood, but he could not gainsay 
 them. 
 
 "We gave you our all," said the mother, "and 
 now we only ask you to divide your treasure with 
 us — besides it was her wish, my son." 
 
 "But her last message ! The last agonized call ! 
 If you could only tell me what it meant, I would 
 obey it to the letter," sobbed Jeremiah Grayson. 
 
 "I see you think it had some reference to the 
 children. How could it?" queried the mother. 
 
 "Is not the mother's last anxiety and agony 
 for her children? You who are a mother and her 
 mother should know. Do with me as you will, and 
 so saying, Jeremiah Grayson sank back on the so- 
 fa spent with grief. 
 
 "Be calm, my son, let us reason together," said 
 the father, in his slow, scientific way. Let us weigh 
 he* words. 'The wilderness red with blood and 
 flame', was doubtless a vision, such as we have in 
 our dreams sometimes and such as the dying often 
 have when the world is beginning to seem like a 
 dream to them. I have been at many a death-bed, 
 and I assure you such visions are nothing unusual. 
 It evidently had no relation to her message to us, 
 which was given when she was in her full senses — 
 or more than full senses — senses electrified or 
 quickened by swift-coming dissolution. Rest as- 
 
 42 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 sured that she knew what she was saying when 
 she told you to give us this child. She saw clearly 
 in that tense moment that the child could not live 
 in this cold climate. She had watched it during 
 the long weeks of her final sickness. She had seen 
 it turn blue and leaden cold at a breeze from an 
 open door. She had lain awake nights and heard 
 its restless moanings and interpreted them as none 
 other could. Now that we think of it, her letters 
 to us during that period contained intimations to 
 that effect. Trust me, my son, I have examined this 
 child with the eye of the physician and I who 
 watched over my own child so carefully from the 
 first hour of her birth until you took her from me, 
 assure you that it is her exact image — just as Jer- 
 ry is your exact image. The two boys are as 
 unlike as the North and South — as unlike as their 
 father and mother, not only temperamentally but 
 in brain structure, bodily structure and skin-tex- 
 ture and will be as far apart in said respects as 
 the antipodes, if they live to be grown-up men. Ah, 
 me!" he continued with a little gasp in his voice, 
 "we shall see what we shall see. They will be as 
 unlike as you and she were, but they will love each 
 other as exactly opposite temperaments are prone 
 to do." 
 
 Jeremiah Grayson gave up his child to its 
 grandparents and made such provisions for it as 
 they demanded ; but that did not prevent him from 
 pondering in his heart more and more as the years 
 went on, what the vision was which his wife saw 
 
 43 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 in her last moments? His sons had prospered be- 
 yond his utmost hopes. Jerry lived at home and 
 helped him manage his large estate. Homer lived 
 with his grandparents in their southern home and 
 was a successful physician. Both were happily 
 married. Each one had a beautiful little girl. One 
 was named Rachael and the other lone. The fami- 
 lies visited each other yearly. The little ones 
 romped and played together and made grandpapa 
 laugh. O, how he wished grandmama could have 
 lived to see them! 
 
 "Surely," he said to himself, "if she saw any- 
 thing dreadful that was going to happen to our 
 sons, it must have been very far off." 
 
 Truly life had held for him a great, very great 
 sorrow, but here at last was his recompense in 
 these dear children — so healthy ! so happy ! so 
 united! so loving! 
 
 Thus time went on until one terrible day when 
 there came rumors of war ! One terrible year when 
 the families did not visit each other! When the 
 children asked "why ?" with trembling lips ! When 
 the brothers wrote long argumentative letters to 
 each other on the right and wrong and expediency 
 of slavery — then short and angry ones. Then 
 worst of all came the terrible day when they en- 
 rolled their names — one in the Northern and the 
 other in the Southern army, to fight the fratrici- 
 dal war if need be to the bitter end. 
 
 Jeremiah Grayson, their father, could not be- 
 lieve there would be a bitter end. 
 
 44 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "There will be a great show," he said, "a mar- 
 shalling and counting of forces, to prove where the 
 greater strength lies, and then there will be a shak- 
 ing of hands. Surely such a Government as ours 
 will not permit the ethics of Cain to rule in this 
 enlightened land! No! it cannot be." 
 
 "Go and see your brother Homer at once," he 
 said at the parting with Jerry. Tell him if need 
 be from me, that slavery is wrong. It cannot ex- 
 ist in a free country, nor in a half-free country. 
 Mother England abolished it long ago. Bring 
 him home with you on your first parole— yes, he 
 and his family too. Run down to Alabama and 
 fetch lone and her mother if they will not come by 
 being sent for. They must come and stay with us 
 until the trouble is settled. Your own brother, 
 who used to love you better than himself surely 
 could not say you nay. He would not raise his 
 sword against his nearest kin. Go now and thank 
 God you are on the right side. Your mother's 
 sweet spirit be — " Jeremiah Grayson thought of 
 the mother's vision and the sentence was not 
 finished ! 
 
 Alas! the son thus sent forth, went to his fate! 
 He did not meet his brother until they met Govern- 
 ment-ordained foes in the most dreadful battle 
 ever recorded of the world! — "The Battle of the 
 Wilderness" — where fathers were slaying their 
 sons ! Where sons were slaying their fathers ! Where 
 brothers were slaying each other! Blind with fury 
 
 45 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 and rage oftimes they did not know whom they 
 were sending to their death ! Oftener still they did 
 not wish to know. They were under bonds to kill 
 their opponents although they might be their 
 dearest friends or nearest of kin. 
 
 Just how these two long-loving brothers, Jerry 
 and Homer Grayson, gave each other the death 
 stroke was known to none of their relatives except 
 the father, Jeremiah Grayson. "Why so?" 
 
 "It was too terrible to be told to tender wives 
 and daughters," saith a voice from the pit.. 
 
 "Was it? Then perhaps it ought to have been 
 told to them over and over again." 
 
 "It was left out of the public prints to save 
 private feelings." Then no doubt but that it 
 should be circulated through every private home 
 in the land in order to save it from public ruin ! 
 So it may as well be said right here, that when the 
 two brothers were found a few days after the awful 
 battle, they were lying face to face, — pinned to- 
 gether by each others swords and glued fast with 
 each others' heart blood. 
 
 "Enough ! pass on !" exclaims the voice. 
 
 No! we will not pass on. There's poor Jere- 
 miah Grayson ! He knew it all at last. What a 
 grievous load ! He knew at last what the vision 
 was that their mother saw in her last moments ! 
 He understood at last the terrible import of her 
 final message to him. "Hold them back, Jerry! 
 hold them back! from the awful wilderness — red 
 with blood and flame !" 
 
 46 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Yes, he knew it all at last ; but he kept it locked 
 up in his heart of hearts. He brooded over it in 
 secret, 
 
 "I did not hold them back, at least with my 
 whole strength, as I would have done had I known 
 the meaning of those mysterious words," was his 
 midnight cry when there were none to hear, except 
 it might be her sweet spirit bending down from 
 the high heavens — the spirit of the dear wife and 
 mother who had turned back from Heaven's gate 
 in the long ago to warn him against the brand of 
 Cain and the Inferno of war that were being pre- 
 pared for their country and their sons ! She did 
 what she could to stay the impending calamity ; 
 but it came, and Jeremiah Grayson, instead of 
 mourning over it in the hidden depths of his heart, 
 should have proclaimed it from the house-tops. He 
 should have risen up from his bed of weeping and 
 used all the strength which he had left and all the 
 knowledge which he had attained to unmask and 
 expose the vile demon of war, fratricide and arson 
 that is plotting to destroy the world! — the foul 
 shape that goes veiled and clothed in the rotten 
 insignia of power and majesty to mystify and 
 blind its deluded followers ! 
 
 "Enough ! enough ! Pass on ! pass on" saith the 
 voice from the pit. 
 
 No ! we will not pass on. There is still another 
 thing to be said about Jeremiah Grayson. He 
 knew all about the horrors of war, its sin, its in- 
 sanity and its misery! He had suffered it all 
 
 47 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 through his own flesh and blood; but he did not 
 know his duty in the matter. He was rent with 
 grief. His only wish was to join his loved ones, 
 and live far away, and above all wars and tumults, 
 just as teaching and tradition had led him to be- 
 lieve he could do, through the drawings of an in- 
 satiable love; and so he died — the good man, the 
 strong man, the honest man, the energetic man — 
 overcome by the vile forces and the barbarous find- 
 ings of a so called civilized world. He died, leav- 
 ing Rachael and lone and thousands of their kind 
 as tender prey for the next war-fiend that might 
 choose to scourge the land. 
 
 "But what could one poor heart-broken man do 
 to stay the mighty God of war?" saith the voice 
 from the pit. 
 
 This be the answer. It was not one poor heart- 
 broken man. There were thousands both at the 
 North and South — yes, and at the East and West 
 and all over the wide world, that were nourishing 
 their war-woes in secret! Thousands upon thou- 
 sands of hurt, suffering and dying ones, who, if 
 they had only had a few strong hands to help 
 them — a few strong words to encourage them, 
 would have risen out of the dead ashes of their 
 griefs and set their minds and hearts at work to 
 overpower the monstrous war-fiends and their mis- 
 applied engineery and set them at a better 
 task. 
 
 "Better task! What task? The military man 
 scorns to do any other task than that of — I mean 
 
 48 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 any other than the one he has been educated for," 
 saith the voice from the pit. 
 
 The task of building safe highways ! The blast- 
 ing of rocks ! The destruction of volcanic forces ! 
 The holding back or protection from floods, fam- 
 ines, cyclones and hurricanes that make this as 
 yet undeveloped earth a huge danger-field for frail 
 humanity ! 
 
 "Listen to the voice above the pit, O lovers of 
 the race!" it saith: 
 
 Let no man think that his words will make no 
 difference with the world's progress. If his words 
 be the words of truth and soberness, they will 
 count for progression as truly as the "horologe of 
 Time" counts for the coming of the Eternal Day ; 
 and no mocking pendulum or sinister hand can 
 swing it back from whence it came, or point it 
 the wrong way. 
 
 If his words be the words of drunkenness and 
 falsity, they will count for the world's abasement 
 and satan's glorification in spite of the Divine be- 
 lief that long 'ere the hour of Destiny has struck 
 its last stroke, God's hand will be upon tHe face of 
 the Earth and His voice will bid the torturing de- 
 mons of war and unrest to "stand still" and hark- 
 en to the swaying music of the on-going years 
 and the mighty throbbings of the one Great 
 Heart ! 
 
 Give heed to your words, then, would-be help- 
 ers of the Infinite One! Repeat again, O down- 
 bending spirit thy warning cry ! It cannot be re- 
 
 4 49 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 peated too often to the Deaf Century that threat- 
 ens to close in upon us. 
 
 See to it, O would-be-hasteners of the dawn 
 of Peace ! that you speak plainly and act honest- 
 ly both at home and abroad ! That you cast 
 aside war-thoughts, war-strategies and war-de- 
 lusions ! That you call murders and murderers, 
 both private and political, by their right names ! 
 That you bring forth their deeds of cruelty, rape 
 and rapine, from the shades of darkness into such 
 marvelous light, that they cannot help being seen, 
 read, and understood by every living human crea- 
 ture! 
 
 50 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE FATE OF IONe's VALENTINE. 
 
 A WEEK after St. Valentine's Day Annette 
 Maury sat in her cozy parlor, waiting 
 for her lover Clement Osborne. She ex- 
 pected him at half past seven o'clock, 
 and now it was quarter to nine and he had not 
 come. What had happened? Clem had always 
 been the most punctual of lovers. She thought of 
 the dark vacant corner at the head of the street 
 from whence some robber could easily pounce upon 
 a passer by, with a shudder. Clem never carried 
 fire-arms of any kind, she knew, too well now for 
 her peace of mind. She had peaceable blood in her 
 veins from the old quaker stock that decided in 
 the face of the derision of the "Lords' Committee 
 of Colonies," that guns and the like were intended 
 to kill beasts instead of men ; and she had always 
 discouraged Clem from using his back pockets for 
 pistols. Now she was sorry, — indeed, quite dis- 
 mayed to think she had done so. Clem helpless 
 in the clutches of a villian worse that the average 
 
 51 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 beast was terrible to think of, and she duly resolved 
 that if he was ever restored to her alive, she would 
 implore him to provide himself with some effec- 
 tive weapon of defense. Then she fell to wonder- 
 ing if a peaceable-looking cane might not be 
 turned into a dagger, or a night-key into a stil- 
 etto, or a gold pin into a poisoned barb; or if a 
 watch key, always so near at hand, might not be 
 made to hold a drachm of vitriol, which suddenly 
 sprung upon a ruffian's eye, would draw his atten- 
 tion from the object of attack — when lo! the fa- 
 miliar ring of her lover's heel on the pavement 
 betokened his living presence, and caused a revul- 
 sion of feeling not at all in his favor. Meeting 
 him at the door after a little deliberate delay, she 
 noticed he was more carelessly dressed than usual, 
 and was smoking a cigar which he did not remove 
 with his usual punctiliousness. 
 
 "I did not expect you so late," she said, in 
 a cool tone. "You could not have forgotten the 
 hour." 
 
 "No, I'm not so forgetful as that An — Miss 
 Maury, I should say," replied Clem, sitting down 
 on the edge of a chair, cap in hand, as though 
 ready to move on. "I read 'til I was almost blind ; 
 I was obliged to come out for a rest." 
 
 "Indeed! You are very frank. I hope you did 
 not feel obliged to call, by the way." 
 
 "Over frankness is better than under frankness 
 Miss Maury, at least I like it better, perhaps you 
 think differently." 
 
 52 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 That depends on what it reveals, Mr., Osborne. 
 I never heard that Satan became an angel by lay- 
 ing off his cloak. If any one treats me disre- 
 spectfully it can't be mended by acknowledging 
 it was done deliberately and intentionally." 
 
 What reply Clem would have made to Annette's 
 close-fitting remark will never be known; for the 
 door bell rang, and a delicate-looking missive was 
 put into her hand. She opened it at once and read 
 as follows : 
 
 "My dear Miss Maury: Your charming valen- 
 tine is at hand. I should be worse than the most 
 heathenish of heathens and better than the best 
 of earthly Bishops and more self-torturing than 
 any of the saints and martyrs in the calendar, if 
 I did not send a brief reply before I close my eyes 
 this night. 
 
 "My soul is not ethereal enough to do much 
 soaring on its own account, but such as it is, it is 
 quite free and who knows what may happen to it 
 'ere another Saint's day, in the way of chords, 
 chains and pulleys, to draw it up and away from 
 this cold snowy region into the blue and rosy 
 ether to which you so gracefully refer. It mat- 
 ters not that personally we are almost strangers. 
 Your words are electric and must have been direct- 
 ed by the spirit of the mysterious affinities, or they 
 could not have so touched and swayed my dull 
 heart. Father Time and the good St. V — will de- 
 cide. Truly your valentine — or 
 
 Bishop Blazius, nee Frank Brownlow." 
 
 53 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 If Miss Maury had not already been too angry 
 for endurance she must have divined that the writer 
 of the valentine was the victim of some curious mis- 
 take, but as it was, it seemed like just so much more 
 impertinence added to the full measure she had 
 received from Clem. The knowledge that Clem 
 and Frank were confidential friends added sus- 
 picion to her anger. 
 
 "Read that," she cried, flinging the note at his 
 feet. "It's from your dear friend — your second 
 self I've heard you call him. See to what conceit 
 and impudence he has attained. Your first self 
 could hardly outrival him." 
 
 If Annette had indulged in a flood of tears at 
 this juncture, no doubt Clem would have been 
 brought into a sympathy with her which would 
 have modified his loyalty to his friend and won her 
 to himself again, but her anger was of too intense 
 a kind for such soft effects. She looked so hard, de- 
 fiant and utterly forbidding that Clem was uncon- 
 sciously wrought upon to stand for justice to 
 Frank Brownlow, whom he knew to be the soul of 
 honor. The two young men had been brought up 
 together, schooled together and lived side by side 
 until a year since, at which time Brownlow went to 
 Europe to finish his studies and Clem came to Huff- 
 ton to establish a law office. He had letters to 
 Annette's father, and soon became his trusted coun- 
 sellor. His acquaintance with the daughter began 
 at a time when she was suffering from a great blow 
 — having lost both parents by one of those yacht- 
 
 54 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ing accidents which occur more frequently than 
 any other on the great rivers and lakes. He had 
 been engaged only three weeks, but he must hasten 
 to tell his friend of his new found happiness ; for 
 Frank had arrived from over the sea just in time 
 for the Wool Grower's procession which took place 
 on the second day of the Ice Carnival, and during 
 the bustle of that day there was only time for a hur- 
 ried greeting and an introduction to Miss Maury. 
 
 Dr. Brownlow was busy with a medical examin- 
 ation when Clem called, but he came out hastily 
 and said 3 "Clem, old fellow, I was coming over to 
 see you this very day. See here," he added in a 
 low tone, as he thrust Ione's valentine into his 
 hand, "do you know this hand writing? Uncle 
 Adrian says it is Miss Maury's ; he was her writ- 
 ing master, it seems ; but he said if I wanted other 
 proof I could ask you — you were her man of bus- 
 iness. You see I want to be sure, Clem, because 
 somehow or other I am struck with it — the senti- 
 ment, I mean. Quite in love as I fancy I should be 
 with tihe writer. You know me, Clem. I wouldn't 
 ask about it if I weren't interested ; and then only 
 uncle or you. I only showed him the postscript, 
 though ; but you may read it through while I am 
 busy. Then you must tell me if it is really her's 
 and if you think I might reply." 
 
 Dr. Brownlow hastened away and Clem Osborne 
 was left alone to face a hand-writing which he 
 could have sworn in open court to be none other 
 than that of his affianced, Annette Maury. 
 
 55 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CLEMENT OSBORNE, LL. D., TRIES HIS OWN CASE. 
 
 WHEN Dr. Brownlow returned to 
 the outer room, he was rather sur- 
 prised to find instead of Clem, the 
 valentine enclosed and sealed in a 
 note, saying: 
 
 "It is surely Miss Maury's hand-writing, and I 
 should judge it called for a reply. I have a case 
 to attend to and have only time to catch the train." 
 The case was his own, and he hastened to his 
 office to argue it with closed doors. All that night 
 and all the next day Clement Osborne, LL. D., 
 was deaf to the client's knock. The trial was his 
 solely, it must have his sole attention. It did not 
 occur to him that Miss Maury could have any 
 testimony to give. Her evidence was all there — 
 spread out on the desk in the shape of geranium- 
 scented notes. He took them up one by one, 
 read them word by word and eyed them as criti- 
 cally as he would a prisoner in the box. This 
 done, he tied them tight together and locked them 
 
 56 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 up in his private drawer. Then he sat down and 
 proceeded to sum up the case and pronounce the 
 verdict. He was very lenient with Miss Maury. 
 She had seen Frank for the first time in the Wool 
 Grower's Procession at the Carnival. Her's was 
 probably a case of love at first sight with which 
 an ordinary judge and jury can have nothing to 
 do. If so, it must be judged by a higher judge 
 and a higher law. She ought to have told him of 
 course and had her engagement annulled in due 
 form; and he would punish her by telling her so 
 plainly. 
 
 With Frank he was inclined to be more severe, 
 almost savage. Could he have found a solitary 
 flaw, a lack of frankness even, as in Annette's case, 
 he would have torn it into a wide rent. 
 
 There was good excuse for a woman, he argued, 
 because she was almost compelled to win her right 
 of way to the matrimonial mart, circuitously and 
 deceitfully. Frank, however, had not failed in this 
 respect. He had been frankness itself. Even if 
 he had heard a rumor of the engagement between 
 himself and Miss Maury, he could not have acted 
 more nobly. He and Frank had talked the matter 
 of love over a thousand times, and both were firmly 
 set against any other than a thoroughly congenial 
 marriage. They had often denounced, as entirely 
 wrong, the withdrawal of the true lover from any 
 motive however generous. Tragedy was gotten up 
 in this way, and life was too full of it already, En- 
 
 57 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 och Arden was not their highest ideal. The only 
 question then to be disposed of was, who was the 
 true lover? He was not prepared to admit, that he 
 did not love Annette Maury, but, if she did not love 
 him, he must take it as a sign. He had always 
 believed that the woman's sense was keener in such 
 matters than the man's, and that the man who 
 would not be guided by it, must be a brute. Be- 
 sides, he reflected, that he was ten years Annette's 
 senior, and that perhaps, as it often happens in 
 such cases, he had wrought upon her feelings by 
 force of will rather than true love — love undying 
 and eternal, and she had been the first to see it. 
 Perhaps he would see it himself in time, and be 
 thankful that the knowledge had not come too late. 
 The final summing up was, that if she did not want 
 him for a husband, he did not want to have her 
 for his wife. He thought for others' pleasure as 
 well as his own. He was not selfish enough to 
 wish to figure as a Phillip at the domestic hearth, 
 nor magnanimous enough to allow Frank Brown- 
 low to play the hero at his expense! 
 
 If Clem had submitted the case as here argued 
 to Annette per letter or "brief," she would have un- 
 derstood it without doubt and thought the better 
 of him for his unparalleled magnanimity ; but with 
 the in judiciousness of the ardent lover, he must 
 present it himself.. He must assure her of his firm 
 adherence to her interests. He must have a part- 
 ing hand-shake and a look. He must vow a fealty 
 newly based to both her and Frank. As may be 
 
 58 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 imagined, the result was disastrous. His panegy- 
 ric on Frank's nobleness came in quite at the 
 wrong end and resulted in fastening her suspicion 
 on himself as well as his friend. While he was read- 
 ing the valentine, which she threw at his feet in an- 
 ger, she was reading his face and saw that it was 
 no surprise to him. It was a conspiracy, then. A 
 miserable conspiracy between the two. Clem had 
 arranged with Brownlow to write it and then had 
 come to see how she received it, and to quarrel 
 about it and break the engagement. Then it 
 flashed across her that she had heard Clem say 
 that Frank had a sister living in Europe. Per- 
 haps there had been a youthful attachment be- 
 tween her and Clem and some obstacle had come 
 between them which was now happily removed. 
 
 Frank had just returned. Perhaps he had 
 brought letters and everything, only to find an- 
 other obstacle in herself. 
 
 All this occurred to her, flash after flash, while 
 Clem was reading the valentine; but that Clem 
 could possibly think that she had written a valen- 
 tine to Frank Brownlow, did not occur to her at all. 
 When he had finished, she stood at the further end 
 of the room with flaming eyes. 
 
 "I understand," she cried, "that the claim was 
 made to excuse the act. You wished to be rid of 
 your engagement but could not say so frankly. 
 It's a pity you have incurred so much trouble on 
 my account. I would have freed you at a word, as 
 I do now, at once and forever" She retreated to 
 
 59 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 the door. At the threshold she turned upon him: 
 "Go to your dear friend and tell him for me that 
 you did not need his aid." 
 
 It was in vain that Clem attempted to give a di- 
 gest of his case. Before he could utter more than 
 two or three disjointed sentences she was upstairs 
 and shut in her own room. 
 
 GO 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE MORNING AFTER THE RUPTURE. 
 
 o 
 
 4 4 ^ J ~'^k IF I could only go away somewhere ! 
 hide away from everybody," sighed 
 Annette, the next morning after her 
 break with Clem. She had lain awake 
 all night thinking it over and trying to devise 
 some plan by which she could extricate herself 
 from the mortifying conditions in which she was 
 placed by her well-known engagement. She had 
 thought of extreme measures such as suicide, but 
 had revolted as any sane creature must ; but if she 
 could only go away! If she only had some good 
 old aunt or uncle with whom she could take refuge 
 from the questioning horde that would soon be 
 upon her. But alas ! she had only one relative this 
 side of the Atlantic and he lived over the border 
 away up to the North Pole almost. He had not 
 been heard of in ever so long. He must be dead, 
 she thought, or he would have answered the letter 
 she wrote him at the time of her parents' death, 
 or have come to see her. 
 
 61 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 At this moment the door-bell rang with a loud, 
 decisive ring, that thrilled every nerve in her body. 
 It seemed like the alarm of Fate. She leaned 
 over the banister and listened. 
 
 "Is this where Herbert Maury's daughter lives ?" 
 said a loud, hearty voice? 
 
 "Yes, mister," said Mrs. Hannagan, eyeing him 
 sharply. 
 
 "Is she at home? Annette Maury, I think is 
 her name." 
 
 "Yes, mister, that's her name an' shall I tell her 
 who it bay that inquires for her?" 
 
 Mrs. Hannagan was the trusted servant and 
 self-constituted watch-dog of her young mistress, 
 and had no idea of letting any man pass the thres- 
 hold without knowing who he was, especially such 
 a great burly-looking military man. She stood 
 with the door three-fourths shut and firmly 
 grasped with her strong right hand. 
 
 "O, it's all right," said he. "Tell her Uncle 
 Jacques wants to see her a minute. Her old Mani- 
 toban uncle. It's rather early but I couldn't stop 
 long." 
 
 Annette flew down stairs. How fortunate ! Here 
 was the longed for uncle come just in time to 
 spirit her away from the scene of her young misery 
 and disappointment. 
 
 "Bless you ! how you've grown, chicky. Deuce 
 take me if I'd have known you. You were such a 
 little dot in shorts only ten years ago. How quick 
 younglins strip up," said Uncle Jacques, shaking 
 
 62 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 both hands and kissing her on both cheeks — he was 
 so delighted at the cordial way in which she had 
 received him and a trifle surprised too, come to 
 think of it. Ten years ago he had not been thus 
 received even by his own brother and his dainty 
 wife, and he had a feeling that his rough border 
 life had unfitted him for their society. True, he 
 had travelled not a little since then. Indeed, he 
 had just come down from the seat of the Domin- 
 ion Government, and it occurred to him that he 
 might all unconsciously have had a few of the 
 rough edges smoothed off. 
 
 They went into the parlor hand in hand — the 
 broad chested, weather-beaten kinsman and his 
 slight young niece. It was just as she and Clem 
 had left it. The torn envelope of the offensive 
 valentine lay on the floor. It startled her a lit- 
 tle, but she could bear it now in this strong pres- 
 ence — the actual embodiment of the protection 
 for which she had only a moment before been fer- 
 vently wishing. His coming seemed almost like a 
 miracle. 
 
 "O, uncle ! You don't know what a relief it is — 
 your coming. I was just thinking about you. 
 Just wishing to go away. I'm so alone here, with- 
 out papa and mama, and no kin of any kind. 
 You'll take me home with you, will you not?" 
 
 "With all my heart, poor child; but you must 
 be sure you want to go, chicky. We've got In- 
 juns with us. You must be sure you won't faint 
 and fall down in it when you see the savages flat- 
 
 63 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ten their copper noses against the window panes 
 and glare at you?" 
 
 "O, I'm not afraid of anything now but being 
 left here without kin. It seems as though I can't 
 endure it another day." 
 
 There's a negative kind of bravery that some- 
 times comes to those who feel that they have suf- 
 fered the greatest evil that can possibly befall 
 them, and no doubt but Annette's was of this kind. 
 As there was nothing in her past life comparable 
 to the breaking up of her engagement to Clement 
 Osborne, so in the future there was nothing to be 
 feared. 
 
 It was evidently the paralysis of fear rather than 
 the birth of true courage ; but by choosing to place 
 herself in a position of real danger, who could 
 doubt that she had not all unconsciously chosen 
 the most effective remedy. 
 
 "Nobody should hurt you, blast me if they 
 should, chicky ; but we're a deuced rough set up 
 there. Without wives mostly. Then we have 
 priests instead of ministers, and they don't have 
 wives either, blast 'em. They're 'bout like the rest 
 of us, only they don't swear so like tigers. We're 
 tall on swearing up there. Oaths as thick as 
 blackberries in a hedge fence. Lord, I always 
 know when I've got across the Canada border by 
 the stoppage of swearing. But say, chicky, what 
 made you think of going home with me as soon 
 as you saw me? I'm awful glad, that is, if you 
 can stand oaths and Injuns and such, but I'm sur- 
 
 64 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 prised, deuced surprised. I thought probably 
 you'd got everything all fixed and settled for life 
 as sleek as a cat's neck by this time, husband and 
 all, deuce take me if I didn't. That's a business 
 they do more of down here than the Manitobans do. 
 They don't swear so much, but they get married 
 more." 
 
 Annette's face turned scarlet and her eyes filled 
 with tears. 
 
 "I'll tell you all about it, uncle, but you must 
 let me go with you, indeed you must." 
 
 "Yes, chicky ; but I'm billed for the three train. 
 Can you get ready in such a jiffy; and isn't there 
 a thing or two I ought to do for you before we 
 go? If any miserable whelp has been insulting 
 you or cutting up any deuced jigamaree I'm the 
 old feller to jerk him up so high that he can't see 
 himself, blast me if I'm not," said Uncle Jacques, 
 slapping his hands on his back pocket, and making 
 a concussion that sounded like the letting off of a 
 brace of pistols. 
 
 "0 no ! uncle, but we'll have breakfast now and 
 I'll tell you all about it afterwards." 
 
 65 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 UNCLE JACQUES' CONSENT. 
 
 A NNETTE was as good as her word, al- 
 
 Z^k though it caused her many a heart- 
 i^ ^8k throb and not a few tears to tell all 
 about her engagement to Clem Osborne, 
 and its sudden rupture. 
 
 "Poor little, lone chicken," said Uncle Jacques, 
 wiping his eyes with his red bandana ; "you're sure 
 there's no mistake about it. Young folks make 
 mistakes sometimes. You know the river of love 
 isn't famous for runnin' smooth. The waves get 
 tangled up into a double and twisted whirl-a-ma- 
 gig now and then, worse than the St. Lawrence at 
 the Du-Chene Rapids. You're sure you couldn't 
 shoot through the rapids without upsetting your 
 canoe? Are you right down sure of that chicken?" 
 
 "Perfectly sure, uncle." 
 
 "But you can't go and leave you business in his 
 hands. You wouldn't do that, would you chick?" 
 
 "Yes, yes ! uncle. He's perfectly honest. Papa 
 trusted him with everything. It was only a mis- 
 
 m 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 take — the engagement. And it's better to know 
 it now than later on when there would be no help. 
 Nothing need be done now. I can write if neces- 
 sary when I get there. It will make everything 
 so much easier. Mrs. Hannagan can attend to 
 matters here and send me anything I may want." 
 
 "Maybe they'll think you've done something 
 you're ashamed of, and run away chicky, to hide 
 it — there blast me ! It's no matter what folks think. 
 That's my theory, and I guess this is the time to 
 practice it," said Uncle Jacques, who was still 
 a little perplexed about the situation of affairs. 
 
 "I don't bleev in runnin' away from the enemy 
 in general, no matter what's his color," he con- 
 tinued; "but this is different. You have got no 
 powder and shot nor re-enforcements in the shape 
 of kin to back you. You can't fight a whole army 
 of tonguesters single-handed; and I spose there'd 
 be a whole battalion to pester you with sharp ques- 
 tions that would be more murdersome than Big 
 Bear's divlish arrows. Divlish, gossipy, gabbling 
 white folks are worse than Injuns any time o'day. 
 I see the situation, chicky. You must go ; but if 
 anything happens that you want to get back, I'll 
 see that you get back safe and sound, blast me if 
 I don't. 'Tisn't as though the trains didn't run 
 down as well as up ; but you're sure you don't 
 want me to have a little conversation with that 
 feller and put a hole through his noddle if I see a 
 good place for one?" 
 
 67 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "No ! No ! dear uncle — and I'm sure I shall nev- 
 er want to come back — papa and mama are gone 
 and there's nobody here to — " 
 
 She broke down and sobbed like a child. 
 
 "That's right chicky," said uncle Jacques, ap- 
 plying a big bandanna to his own eyes. "Shed 'em. 
 Get rid of 'em. I bleev in that. Tears arn't any 
 better for the brain if they're held back and let 
 to soak in, than pizen whiskey. Never you fear 
 acting out nature 'fore me. I bleev in it," re- 
 peated he, blowing his nose and mopping his face 
 as energetically as a school-boy. 
 
 The tears as well as the uncle's hearty sympa- 
 thy, were the needed relief after the feverish des- 
 pair of the past night. Everything brightened 
 wonderfully after the natural outlet, and all her ar- 
 rangements were made with cheerful alacrity. Ev- 
 en the money in the bank intended for the pur- 
 chase of her wedding trousseau was taken bravely 
 out on the way to the train. The concise matter- 
 of-fact orders to Mrs. Hannagan left no room for 
 that trusty and unsophisticated servant's question- 
 ings. That Annette was going home with her 
 uncle, her only kin, that she and her boy were 
 to stay in the house and take care of the things, 
 and that she would write whenever it was neces- 
 sary, was enough for her to know. 
 
 Mrs. Plannagan had an inkling of her quarrel 
 with Clem, and woman-like thought that getting 
 out of the way would be the right plan for "fetch- 
 ing him to." Besides, she was barely eighteen and 
 
 68 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 could well afford to wait, especially since her 
 uncle had come and was willing to take her under 
 his guardianship. 
 
 And so with the aid of the elements, for the 
 snow was falling again and in such dense drifts 
 that no visitors came — Annette and her uncle act- 
 ually got off and were miles away before anyone 
 but Mrs. Hannagan knew aught of the matter. 
 
 The explanatory letter which Clem sent the next 
 day was returned unopened, and when he called 
 a few days later he was told she had gone with 
 her uncle to that indefinite place known as "out 
 west," nor were her other friends more enlightened 
 as to her whereabouts. 
 
 "She wishes to gain time to make a new begin- 
 ning," was Clem's inward comment after many 
 long and bitter reflections on the subject; but it 
 distressed him to think he had not been permit- 
 ted to explain his own feeling in regard to it. He 
 was glad, however, that she had not absolutely 
 denied having written the valentine, and believed 
 she would be obliged to give him his small meed of 
 justice in the end. "Ah, the end! What a weary 
 way," sighed Clement Osborne, LL. D. 
 
 m 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 zadkiel's mother's faith in zadkiel, the alma- 
 mac maker's prophecies. 
 
 ZADKIEL Renaud's private collection of 
 reading matter was rather meagre; 
 but it had the appearance of being 
 well thumbed. It contained the fa- 
 mous old Zadkiel Almanac, one of the first edi- 
 tions of that curious work, which appeared above 
 the horizon of prophetic literature no longer ago 
 than 1831. It was an heir-loom from his mother, 
 whose faith had been pinned to almanacian proph- 
 ecy from the "coming to pass," of a very singu- 
 lar weather prognostication, which was nothing 
 less than "a snow storm on the Fourth of July." 
 Prior to the event it was considered the joke of 
 the season in the little settlement on the Canadian 
 border where Zadkiel's mother lived. Being an 
 attentive child, she heard it much talked of and 
 laughed about. No wonder, then, that when the 
 Fourth of July came and actually brought the 
 snow storm, it made a powerful impression on her 
 
 70 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 young mind. Even older heads than hers had been 
 led by this circumstance into regarding the al- 
 manac with a kind of faith akin to that with which 
 they held the bible, and as the bible and the alma- 
 nac constituted the chief part of the family li- 
 brary in that remote and sparsely settled region, 
 and the latter had the attractive quality of be- 
 ing new each year, it was natural that faith once 
 firmly anchored upon it should be kept alive and 
 well conditioned. 
 
 Some time after the happening referred to, a 
 report got abroad that the almanac-maker's south- 
 ern wife, had, in the spirit of fun, slyly inserted 
 the Fourth of July storm into her husband's 
 work. 
 
 Whether Zadkiel Renaud's mother ever heard 
 of the report is doubtful. It is also doubtful 
 whether it would have made any difference to, her 
 if she had. Faith once firmly established is not 
 easily shaken. For the native mind it would have 
 been enough to know that the prophecy had got 
 into the almanac and had been singularly fulfilled. 
 Henceforth the faith in almanacs must be great, 
 and they would naturally be regarded as sacred 
 enclosures into which nothing that was not fore-or- 
 dained for fulfillment would be permitted to enter. 
 
 As to Zadkiel's mother she did not let go of 
 the bible to take up the almanac, as one or two 
 masculine adherents in her neighborhood had done. 
 Her faith was large enough for both. To her 
 seeming, the "voice of the stars" was a fit compan- 
 
 71 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ion-piece to the "voice of the Lord," and her sim- 
 ple, easily enthused soul, discovered notes of har- 
 mony between the two which more complex ones 
 failed to notice. 
 
 Very likely certain cynical individuals will say 
 that she was at that point of emotional develop- 
 ment when a sudden growth of feeling is seeking 
 new outlets or casting about for safe anchorage; 
 and that a husband would have better filled the 
 requirement, but as the latter was also supplied 
 in due time the argument would be forced to rest 
 mainly on the richness or poverty of the supply. 
 The supply of faith at least proved to be suf- 
 ficiently abundant in her case — enough for the 
 bible, the husband and the most prophetic kind of 
 an almanac that could be found. And so it came 
 to pass that Zadkiel's "voice of the stars" became 
 her accepted almanac and her first born son was 
 named after it and became its possessor after her 
 death. 
 
 Zadkiel Renaud, as might have been expected, 
 did not inherit his mother's faith in Zadkiel the al- 
 manac-maker's prophecies. Still, it matters little 
 whether our beliefs or superstitions are born with 
 us or may be accounted for in the same way as an 
 old French theorist explains "the aversion to' 
 cheese." His mother's faith had not been born 
 with Tier either ; but had come of a full experience, 
 and she evidently thought it might be the same 
 with her son. Otherwise, she would not have mark- 
 ed out the most remarkable and unlikely-to-hap- 
 
 72 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 pen batch of prognostications for his especial no- 
 tice. There were three of them and all in a nest 
 for the winter of 1885. If they should come to 
 pass one after the other as set down, surely there 
 would be no escape for Zadkiel's faith. Since the 
 almanac had come into his hands up to the winter 
 of 1885, not one of its prophecies, so far as he 
 knew, had come to pass. True, none of much im- 
 port had been set down for those years ; and, ac- 
 cording to Zadkiel junior's rather shrewd way of 
 thinking, things of no consequence might just as 
 well be left unfulfilled. His shrewdness also led 
 him to notice that the prophecies were not always 
 plainly stated and that they were often of matters 
 so foreign or out of his range of knowledge, or 
 vision, that he could not positively say whether 
 they had happened or not. But the predictions 
 for 1885 he would surely see about. They were 
 menacing and war-like and took a stronger hold 
 of him than any weather prophecies could, even 
 though headed by the fiercest of cyclones. 
 
 The last of the three prophecies was of the 
 most importance to Zadkiel, and underneath it was 
 written in a labored hand "Prepare the way." 
 
 Zadkiel's style of preparing the way was simply 
 to watch and see which way things were turning. 
 He had no idea of preparing roads that were not 
 going to be trod. He had no thought of cloth- 
 ing himself in camel's-hair or even buffalo-skin 
 raiment, nor of subsisting on wild honey and lo- 
 custs. He had just heard of a learned man who 
 
 73 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 died by breakfasting on locusts alone. Unlike his 
 mother he had practical rather than enthused ideas 
 of things ; but he was determined to have it out 
 with the three prophecies ; and as now was the 
 season for them, he must be up and doing. He 
 was more determined in the matter because the 
 first of the three had already shown signs of com- 
 ing to pass. It was as follows : 
 
 "The Czar of Russia will feel the sting of old 
 Saturn. As Mars enters Aquarius, violence reigns 
 in his vast dominions. Let the English beware of 
 Russia's advance toward their possessions." 
 
 Zadkiel was a poor reader, but he was a good 
 questioner, and at every advent of newspapers he 
 plied Rachael with questions as to what was doing 
 in Russia. He even condescended to get informa- 
 tion on this important point from the despised 
 Saff Walkup. So it happened he was up early, 
 on the morning of the 14th of February (St. Val- 
 entine's Day), comparing the notes thus collected 
 with the almanac's prophecy and was astonished 
 to see how well they agreed. 
 
 "I swow ef I don't bleev it's tu come tu pass 
 the hull of it," said Zadkiel, spelling out the sen- 
 tences as was his wont, and setting down his thumb 
 between every word. 
 
 "Herat is English possessions and Rewshy is 
 headed for Herat, plague take her." 
 
 Zadkiel had three kinds of blood in his veins, 
 French, English and Indian ; but at that instant 
 he felt like a whole Englishman, as might natur- 
 
 74 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ally be expected; for though his French blood 
 might have germs of rebellion against the Eng- 
 lish the Indian blood would lean strongly toward 
 them. Besides he had spent most of his life with 
 the Graysons and their ancestors were chiefly Eng- 
 lish. So if there really was serious trouble be- 
 tween the English and Russian Governments he 
 could not help being greatly interested in it, but 
 the most exciting reflection was that if it came to 
 pass, the rest might. 
 
 "What if the Voice for March should come true, 
 by jiminy," said Zadkiel to himself? "Ther'd 
 be biznis on hand then and mighty clus tu hum." 
 
 The Voice of the Stars for March stated that 
 "'In Canada and the United States, martial pro- 
 ceedings would be the order of the day. Violence 
 would reign and turbulence would cause serious 
 trouble." 
 
 It did not explain the cause of the trouble so 
 Zadkiel walked backward and forward in his room, 
 trying to puzzle it out. The interest hit him so 
 nearly. Russia was far away and so was Suakim 
 — but Canada ! He could see the shore from his 
 window, and more plainly still from the hay-loft 
 when he was getting down fodder for the stock. 
 It was almost one with the Grayson farm. Any 
 disturbance there would be his affair. What could 
 it be? Were the Fenians coming, or the Parnel- 
 lites with their dynamite? Would they send a fleet 
 through the river to the lakes and deal destruc- 
 tion right and left? Now a stroke at England 
 
 75 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 and then one at America? If so, he would have 
 all he could do to defend the lives and property of 
 these defenseless women. His duty would be here ; 
 but if the trouble should be farther up at the seat 
 of the Dominion Government, would it not be his 
 duty to go there? 
 
 Then he thought of Biddy as the representative 
 of the dynamite forces, and wondered if Miss 
 Grayson would insist on keeping her if the "rum- 
 pus" should prove to be Fenian. Then he thought 
 of "them Walkups." 
 
 "Them Walkups would be on the side that 
 could du the most mischief," grumbled Zadkiel. 
 He went to the window and scratched an eye-hole 
 through the frost that covered the pane. It was 
 always cooling to his excited or angry feelings to 
 look out on the still, white snow. He was born in 
 a climate even colder than this, and the little air 
 draughts that came in at every crevice and would 
 have penetrated lone like so many sharp needles, 
 were nothing but a tonic for him. He looked out 
 from his small port-hole of observation and watch- 
 ed the sunrise. It was a performance of which he 
 never tired, nor was too busy to look at. He had 
 an artist's delight in color, inherited, probably, 
 from his Indian ancestor. 
 
 A faint, rosy band was pushing its way above 
 the scalloped row of pines that were ever and 
 ever so far away across fleecy white pastures and 
 the fringed edges of the sleeping river. Moment 
 by moment, the band broadened and deepened, 
 
 76 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 until it appeared above the snow-coated roof of 
 the stable, behind which the sun was swiftly rising. 
 Already a spear of golden light had rent the band 
 in twain, and soon hundreds of others would tear 
 it to atoms and suffuse everything above and be- 
 low with its warm glow. Zadkiel was watching 
 for this final dash of color, when suddenly he be- 
 held a bit of color of a very different kind. It was „ 
 a bright scarlet-hood thrust out of the stable 
 door. The stable wherein were his precious cows, 
 Spot and Brindle ! Then a corner of a yellow 
 shawl fluttered in the wind and the figure of a 
 woman stepped shyly out. 
 
 "Great blazes !" exclaimed Zadkiel, "If that 
 ain't Biddy with the milking pail! What under 
 the canopy of heaven kin she be up tu?" 
 
 He thought of horrible war, of stolen rations, 
 and of Saff Walkup. Aunt Judith often treated 
 Saff to a cup of milk to offset his bringing the 
 mail ; but who on earth but an Irish dynamiter 
 would attempt a clandestine supply? 
 
 The girl came tripping lightly along over the 
 snow path, making a bright figure very pleasant 
 to Zadkiel's eye, in spite of his indignant sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "The pail can't be more'n quoter full by the 
 way she handles it," grumbled Zadkiel, "but fer 
 her tu think she could steal even a cup full from 
 them Spot and Brindle bags 'thout me knowing it ! 
 I'll make short work of such rinktums as that." 
 
 He marched down stairs and met her as she was 
 77 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 entering the porch. She blushed and shyed off to 
 the shed, hiding the pail as well as she could un- 
 der her shawl. 
 
 "What under the canopy !" began Zad, but a 
 slam of the door made the rest of the interroga- 
 tive useless. 
 
 "That's the style of 'em," growled Zad. "It's 
 slam-bang and explode. Ther's no use saying 
 anything to her, but Mistress Grayson shall know 
 it right airly." Meantime he made sure there 
 were no strange characters prowling about the 
 premises. 
 
 78 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ZADKIEL COMPLAINS AND BRIDGET EXPLAINS. 
 
 IN less than an hour after breakfast Zadkiel 
 had told Mistress Grayson about the milk- 
 ing affair, and Mistress Grayson had asked 
 Biddy to explain, and Biddy had made it plain 
 at last amidst a stream of comicalities, pathos and 
 denunciation of Misther Zadkiel, that it was for 
 "a bit of dayvarsion on the day iv the blissed St. 
 Valentine" that she had "sthript the cows iv a 
 bit of milk," and that it was the blissed lonesome 
 young ladies themselves," that had put it into her 
 head to do the "loikes iv it." 
 
 The young ladies had a hearty laugh over Brid- 
 get's crude experiment. 
 
 "As though she could have seen anybody but 
 Zadkiel," said Rachael, "that early in the morning. 
 I suspects she likes him better than she pretends." 
 
 "I wonder if anything else funny will come of 
 our valentines," remarked lone. 
 
 Aunt Judith "reckoned that Bridget was des- 
 perately lonesome away from all her kin and that 
 
 79 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 they would all try to be kinder to her after this ;" 
 while Zadkiel was truly sorry for the wrong he 
 had done her and went to the kitchen to tell her 
 so ; but his suspicion that it was that "miserable 
 Saff Walkup," that she expected to see first after 
 the milking tempted him to offer an after-sauce to 
 his humble pie, which prevented his mission from 
 being immediately successful. 
 
 "If yu'd a' known that miserable Saff Walkup 
 a quoter as long as I have," said Zadkiel, after 
 Biddy had received his apology for himself in good 
 part, "yu'd a' known he's too lazy a fry tu be up 
 that early in the morning. I've alius known the 
 whole caboodle of 'em, and I can tell yu there 
 never was an industrious hair amongst 'em, from 
 old grandpar Walkup down tu the slinky dog; 
 and Saff is the shiftlesses lumux of 'em all." 
 
 "And sure ye'd bether be a sthoping in bed 
 yerself than be out iv it and a making a mean owld 
 peep-iv-the-day-boy iv yerself," said Biddy. 
 
 "Peep-of-the-day-boy," repeated Zadkiel, star- 
 ing at her. He was not prepared for such an 
 outburst. 
 
 "Och! yez needn't be stharing at the meaning 
 iv that. It means thim that were sent by rich 
 folks a prowling 'round airly in the mornings with 
 guns on their shoulders to see that poor Irish folks 
 had no guns at all to defend themselves with. 
 That's the meaning iv thim in the owld kintry and 
 ye be more haythenish than thim, for ye go a- 
 peeping at thim that have nothing to defend thim- 
 
 80 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 selves with, and without being sent by anybody 
 but yerself ; and at me a puir gurrel all alone by 
 meself in a strange land," added Biddy with a 
 quick sob that emptied her speech of its bitter- 
 ness and made Zadkiel feel more than ever that 
 he had wronged her and ought to be very patient 
 with the "unreasonable creature." 
 
 "It's because yu are a poor girl and all alone 
 among strangers, that I feel bound to tell yu the 
 truth about them Walkups," said Zadkiel kindly, 
 and I'm going tu tell you again that they'r a dis- 
 honest, shiftless, spendthrifty set, the whole ca- 
 boodle of 'em. The old Father of all had a com- 
 fortable fortune fall to him, but he foolished it 
 away rn whiskey and hoss trades and one darned 
 thingumbob or other 'til he got tu be a regular 
 numskull; then he ran right straight down like 
 an old cow's tail." 
 
 "And shure it's the sthyle iv them ye needn't 
 take the thruble to explain," replied Biddy, 
 shortly. "Nayther need ye take the thruble to 
 give me the advice as though ye were me fayther 
 and brither and such, and feared I didn't know 
 that the gurrel ye'd marry isn't born yet and her 
 mither's dead. I have eyes in me own head and 
 I'm thinking ye don't belong to one iv the five 
 bluids, that ye need to set yerself up for a bay- 
 con to keep ithers from falling doon. Och ! it's 
 an ould Firbolg ye be and it's meself's a fool to be 
 forgiving ye for interfering with me secret play- 
 
 81 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "I don't know what in tunket yu mean by your 
 five bloods and your old Firblogs," said Zadkiel, 
 putting the "1" in the wrong place and smiling 
 pacifically. "I have got most all kinds of blood 
 in my veins ; but I never heard I had any relations 
 by the name of Firblogs afore. I know, howsom- 
 ever, that I never intended tu du yu a mite of 
 harm and it ain't my fault if yu don't forgive me." 
 
 Biddy did not try to enlighten Zadkiel's dense 
 ignorance of Irish history by explaining that the 
 "Five Bloods" were five old Irish families, among 
 which were the O'Conners, and that a certain Rory 
 O'Conner was supposed to be an ancestor of her 
 own ; nor that the Firbolgs were nothing worse 
 that a primitive sort of people, which were credited 
 with being the first to colonize Ireland. Indeed, 
 her own knowledge of the terms may have been 
 restricted solely to their ordinary application. At 
 any rate, she had other scores to settle with Zad- 
 kiel, and her quick wit told her that this was 
 a good opportunity. 
 
 "Och! Intended! Ye never be intending nay- 
 thing when ye be clapping the sarpent eyes on 
 me, whatever I be doing and a calling me a 
 wastheful extravagancy: I'd as soon be one iv 
 thim as a streaking potwolloper loike yerself, with 
 a crumple of paper and a stick-pen foriver in 
 hand, when it baint in yer breast pocket. It's 
 worse that the curse iv Cromwall, to have the 
 loikes iv ye a pothering oboot the house and a 
 speering into the stoves, and a sthriving to make 
 
 82 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 the splendid barrel on the top iv thim iv no ac- 
 count at all except for a big black ghaist. It's 
 but a thrifle ye'd! be at the loikes iv that if the thrue 
 misther wud part with his grave-clothes for the 
 instant. Faith and a body'd think ye had to pay 
 a smoke tax and a hearth tax and nose money 
 into the bargain, and all out iv yer own airnings 
 to see ye a going and a smelling and a scrimping 
 all over the premises. It's a Barebanes Parliment 
 ye'd be making iv a rayspectable house and freeze 
 up the bluid iv thim within it. Wae's me if I'm 
 iver back in me own kintry ! I'll nayver coom out 
 iv it again to be scowlded and suspishioned and 
 treated worse than a haythen dayvil and all his 
 splattering imps." 
 
 The window shuddered and rattled', seemingly 
 to emphasize Biddy's speech; but the fact was, 
 the wind had risen after the snowfall and had been 
 blowing fitfully ever since, although they had been 
 too much absorbed with their own little breeze to 
 notice it. Zadkiel noticed it at last and turned to 
 the weather outside as a subject on which they 
 might possibly agree — just as many another per- 
 plexed mortal has done, when there seemed to be 
 nothing within suited to the purpose. He drew 
 the curtain entirely aside, looked out and then 
 stared. 
 
 "Great blazes!" he exclaimed! "If Mr. Wind 
 isn't playing snow-ball the j oiliest kind. I never saw 
 anything beat that short of the Red River Coun- 
 try! But I might have proversied it if I had'nt 
 83 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ben so took up with other folkses' proversies and 
 biznises. The way was all prepared for it as 
 sleek as grease — a level foot of softest snow yester • 
 day, a stiff freeze up last night — making a glary 
 crust that sent the colt a sprawling the moment he 
 sot his foot on it — then more snow this forenoon 
 of the extra-feathery stamp, and now the high old 
 wind. Whew! Biddy jest look at the fun Mr. 
 Wind is beving all by himself !" 
 
 Bridget went promptly to the window. Zad- 
 kiel made room for her, while she applied both 
 corners of her apron to her eyes to clear them of 
 the tears that had gathered there during her gust 
 of anger, and standing in pacific nearness they 
 watched the curious spectacle, while Rachael and 
 lone, with Aunt Judith peering over their should- 
 ers were looking out of the hall window with ex- 
 clamations of wonder and delight. 
 
 It was strange work, truly, this snow-balling 
 without hands ! Snow-balling without an accom- 
 paniment of children with red cheeks and merry 
 shoutings and laughter ! No noise at all except 
 the puffing and panting of the wind. How can 
 it be done? Let us see if we can find out. 
 
 Work away now, Mr. Wind, we are watching 
 you. Scoop up the feathery snow yith your in- 
 visible hands. Pat it, toss it, whirl it about, roll 
 it up into a ball and kick it along with your in- 
 visible feet. Your fingers are made of ice. Snow 
 cannot freeze them. Make more balls. Send them 
 flying after the first. Crunch them together; kick 
 84 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 them along. Your feet are icy-cold ; the frost can- 
 not bite them. You skip over the shining ridges 
 and through the feathery hollows. You gather up 
 white fleeces as you go. You roll them up and 
 send them flying towards the sheep-fold, where the 
 Bell-wether stands with elevated horns and watch- 
 ful eye, to lead or guard, if need be, his meek 
 flock from what appears to be an on-coming in- 
 cursion of animated and all too-frisky fleeces, 
 shorn from the backs of fellows of his own kind. 
 You look into the dusky eyes of Mr. Bell-wether. 
 O ! riotous wind ! You make him wink hard and fast. 
 You whirl around with glee and leave him standing 
 there while you go back to your balls again. You 
 look at them. You shake your frosty locks at 
 them. They are not large enough to suit you. 
 You wish to make monsters of every one of them. 
 It is a huge task so off you go and back you come 
 with an army of invisible witches to help you. 
 There's plenty of snow over by the old stone wall. 
 Scoop it up! Scoop it up! Make your balls big- 
 ger and bigger! Crunch them together harder 
 and harder! Send them along swifter and swifter, 
 you and your white witches ! 
 
 Whew ! what are you doing there — over by that 
 fringe of pine woods? Trying to make more 
 giants before you are through with these? Fickle 
 wretches ! why not have done with these first ? See 
 how slow they move ! How pale and forsaken 
 they look ! How cold and hard and sullen as they 
 sink down in that hollow by the barnyard fence! 
 85 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 They stir not. Are they moribund or are they 
 dead? 
 
 Ah! you know not, you care not, cold-hearted 
 Wind and Co. You love not the monsters you 
 have made. You will see if you can do better next 
 time. You go after the little ones again. You 
 come back with a great flock of them, flying like 
 white pigeons over the wide field. You scatter 
 them right and left. You spend your spite on 
 them. You cuff them around. You roll them up. 
 You crunch them together. You kick them along. 
 Alas ! how many of them will be turned into giants 
 ere your rage is ended — ponderous, lazy, stiff old 
 giants, and drop into snowy graves ! 
 
 Just now there are hundreds of thousands of 
 their kind, both little and big, either lying, flying 
 or rolling about all over the great, glassy fields. 
 O ! a wild and fearful time you are having Mr. 
 Wind — you and your army of invisible witches. 
 The poor little rabbits scurry away affrighted. A 
 little red squirrel falls off from the wall in its 
 frantic race. Spot and Brindle are looking at 
 you with staring eyes and wide-spread nostrils. 
 The calves skip away with flying tails as one of 
 your monster balls comes crushing against the 
 fence. The old rooster skitters away to his hud- 
 dling family with his sails reefed, and cackles like 
 a hen. Zadkiel looks into Bridget's wondering 
 eyes and asks her "if it isn't wuth coming all the 
 way from old Ireland to see this great big game 
 of snow-ball without hands?" 
 
 86 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Bridget says "it is not snow-balling they be ; 
 but a sthriving to make snow images for thim- 
 selves loike some ithers in this cold and frozen kin- 
 thry." 
 
 "But it's great, Biddy," insisted Zadkiel, "and I 
 want you tu know this is a great country — the 
 greatest and most glorious country in the hul 
 world!" 
 
 "Don't daysave yersilf," retorted Biddy. "It's 
 not for Biddy O'Conner to say that much of this 
 cowld-weathered, cowld-harted, brither-murtherin 
 and child-murtherin kintry !" 
 
 'Child-murdering? What in Cain du yu mean 
 now, Biddy?" 
 
 "Och, indade! an what do they mane whin they 
 place in their young wans hands once a year the 
 implaymints with which they are permitted to mur- 
 ther thimselves? The dayvilish implaymints with 
 which to blow the brains out of their little heads 
 before they have brains enough to know any bet- 
 ter !" 
 
 "0 Biddy," laughed Zad! "It's. our glorious 
 Fourth of July spree, yu'r alludin' at. It's only 
 for the fun of the thing and to show how slick we 
 licked the English." 
 
 "Och ! It's a quare kind o' fun whin ye know 
 mony a mither's son will have his eyes torn out 
 or be killed intirely; an' it's a quare way of in- 
 forming the worruld how ye conquered the inemy 
 by letting yer own bonnie bairns blow thimselves 
 into smithereens." 
 
 87 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "But the mothers must stand by and see that the 
 children don't get burnt while taking lessons in 
 Patriotism." 
 
 "Och! and then the little pigs in the ovens, will 
 be burnt to a crisp, the applesass won't be fit to 
 ate and mithers' ligs will rayfuse to stand up 
 while the piles o' sthuff called patriotism is bay- 
 ing taught ; but its the extravagancy of it — The 
 burning up of money when so much is needed for 
 education and warrumth. It's ye who are so eco- 
 nomical with the fuel that shud be prayching 
 agenst the burning up of money and brains in the 
 bayrgain." 
 
 "That's true Biddy. Yu've struck it right at 
 last. It is a wasteful icustom and I guess I ought 
 to attack it on that ground; for it's against my 
 principles tu waste or burn up things, tu say 
 nothing of babies," laughed Zad. "I think they 
 must have been easier to get in old barbarous 
 times than they are now or they couldn't have af- 
 forded to have made burnt sacrifices of them. Eh 
 Biddy?" 
 
 "Och ! There be many who think they can afford 
 it now. I saw one, the day after I landed in New 
 York. It was Fourth of July in the morning. A 
 man with a boy-bairn came and sat bayside me on 
 the bench. After informing me that he was a 
 widower with a child to care for, he prayceeded 
 to buy a firecracker and place it in the little 
 won's hand. Then he lighted the tail of it and the 
 
 88 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 little won clapped it to its mouth where it explod- 
 ed and sphlit its little lip open, blew off its little 
 nose and put its little eyes out. Methought bay- 
 ing widowered he intinded to daystroy the whole 
 child, so I cried to the Polase to arrist him! but 
 he laughed scornfelly, and inforrumed me that it 
 was only a little Fourth accidint and I naydent 
 be worried as it was the style in this part of the 
 worruld where babes were so plinty they could af- 
 ford to use thim fer bon-fires." 
 
 "O ! the hideous man ! what did yu say to him, 
 Biddy?" 
 
 "Och ! I was so angery that I couldn't sphake a 
 word but I tould him if that was the style of it, 
 nayver a child would the sowl of Biddy O'Conner 
 consint to bring into this murtherin' kintry." 
 
 "Biddy ! Biddy ! yu don't mean to say that if 
 we don't stop slaughtering our Innocents, you will 
 insist on sailing back to Ireland as soon as you 
 are married," said Zad, mournfully; but Biddy 
 turned away with a flirt leaving Zadkiel standing 
 alone by the window and more dazed than ever as 
 to how he will manage "to get hold of the onrea- 
 sonable creetur." 
 
 89 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE RED RIVER REBELLION. 
 
 / / TTT'S naither a Chinaman ner a Naygur 
 IP W Q that he is or I'd be knowing how to hate 
 
 T 
 
 H him all he deserves," said Biddy ; " an' 
 such a haythenish name he has baysides." 
 
 "And so you don't know just how to hate Zad- 
 kiel," replied Aunt Judith whose sense of humor 
 had not yet run dry, although she was past the 
 age at which it is considered proper to indulge in 
 it especially with those in an inferior position. 
 "Better not hate him at all then. He's a good 
 honest man, though he is rather set in his way." 
 
 "Och !" said Biddy, "it's little t'wud thruble me- 
 self to see him sitting in his own way if he wud 
 lave off sitting in me own way." 
 
 "He will be out of your way now, very soon 
 Biddy. He isn't the worst fellow that ever was, 
 and I'm afraid we shall find it very hard to sup- 
 ply his place." 
 
 Biddy's dishcloth which she had been wringing 
 and twisting into the hardest kind of a knot, drop- 
 90 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ped down into the pan with an iron-like thud and 
 her big gray eyes fastened on Aunt Judith's with 
 a frightened stare. 
 
 "As to his name, poor Zad isn't to blame for his 
 any more than I am for mine. His mother named 
 him after some one that she considered a great 
 prophet," continued Aunt Judith as serenely as 
 though she had not noticed the expression of Bid- 
 dy's face and had no suspicion of its meaning. 
 
 "An' ye don't purtind yer going to turn him 
 off Mistress Grayson. Ye'd not be doing sooch 
 a hard hearted thing as that?" 
 
 "He shall not go without a kind word from me 
 after so many years of faithful service," remarked 
 Aunt Judith slyly. She saw through Biddy's 
 coquetish anger very clearly now. 
 
 "Wae's me," sobbed Biddy, dropping onto the 
 nearest chair as suddenly as the dishcloth had 
 dropped into the pan. "Wae's me that I iver kem 
 into a sthrange kinthry, widout fayther er mither 
 er brither er sisther er anything but me own bad 
 head to lade me into thruble an' ithers the same! 
 Wae's me that I iver kem among ye a bringing 
 the thruble, thruble, thruble. It's naything but 
 thruble, thruble wheriver I sthop; an niver a bit 
 iv playsure ixcept the thruble's at the tail end iv 
 it. An' now Misther Zadkiel will be a blaming 
 me fer the turning him off ondayserved, joost as 
 he did fer the milking. It's nothing a poor furrin 
 gurrel ken do but bring the thruble to herself 
 
 91 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 an' ivery body baysides. As though she'd niver 
 the wits to do a sthroke of wurruk ixcept it." 
 
 Biddy's head went down on her hands as limply 
 as though the chords that held it to the spinal 
 column had been suddenly cut loose, and a wild 
 flood of tears threatened to deluge the neatly 
 scoured table. 
 
 "No, Biddy, Zadkiel will never blame you for 
 his leaving. He's not so mean spirited as that, 
 whatever you may think of him," said Aunt Ju- 
 dith. 
 
 "Och! but he will an' he's the right iv it. He 
 knows I've bin sphiting him an' a wispering day- 
 sayvin wurruds to ye loike the serpint I am, whin 
 I shud a fergave him as he dayserved an', the 
 which I did in me heart the blissed saints know. 
 It was only the wrong head iv me that wud niver 
 consint ; but it all kems iv bayin' a poor lorn gur- 
 rel in a sthrange kentry with none to purtict me 
 ixcept meself. But I raypint me iv the desaitful 
 wurruds against Misther Zadkiel, an' if ye'll plase 
 to turn me off instid iv him, it's meself that'll 
 be foriver an' iver obliged ; an' afther ye've turn- 
 ed me off I'll fall doon on me knees an' bayseech 
 ye to take me back, an' I'll swear be the blissid 
 Virgin an' all the howly Saints to niver do the 
 loikes anny moar." 
 
 "I didn't say I was going to turn Zadkiel off, 
 Biddy. He's going of his own accord and I don't 
 know how in the world to spare him. See here 
 Biddy, I wish you'd have a good, honest talk with 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Zadkiel. It might make a difference. I think 
 you've been rather hard on him and that might 
 make him more determined to go, though the 
 trouble in Canada, is the excuse. That miserable 
 little Indian rebellion away up in the Red River 
 country, where he was born and where his mother 
 is buried. It won't amount to anything more'n it 
 did before except to stir up the lawless characters 
 .along the border. I'm afraid we shall need his 
 help here more than his friends will there." 
 
 "An' if that's all," said Biddy, stiffening up at 
 once, "I'll do me bist ; an' if there's a bit iv Rory 
 O'Conner blo,od in me veins it will be at yer ser- 
 vice." 
 
 No sooner said than Biddy threw on her hood 
 and shawl and hurried to the stable where Zad- 
 kiel was busy giving the cows their noonday 
 "lunchin" as she called it. When she got to the 
 door she paused a moment to catch her breath. 
 Being one of the energetic kind that must do some- 
 thing even while doing nothing as the Irish would 
 say, she peered through a crack in the door to see 
 what she could see. She saw Zadkiel marching 
 down the alley between two rows of horned heads 
 with Spot's and Brindle's calves frisking around 
 him and nipping his coat tails with the freedom of 
 petted children. The fondness of the animals for 
 Zadkiel was something so remarkable as to be of- 
 ten spoken of by the Graysons. Bridget had a 
 good chance at last of seeing it verified — that is 
 if she could keep her eyes clear enough to watch 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 the stalled beasts as with one accord they stretch- 
 ed their long necks toward him and followed his 
 every motion with their great lustrous eyes — eyes 
 that shone like electric gems through the dusky 
 stable. But the most pathetic of all was to see 
 Spot and Brindle vie with each other in bobbing 
 their heads up and down as he approached them, 
 and reach out their tongues to lick his hand. Af- 
 ter receiving this dumb caress he put a hand on 
 the head of each and stood in that attitude for 
 some time. 
 
 "It's a lave-taking he is iv the spaichless 
 baists," said Biddy to herself with a jealous pang. 
 
 Biddy was only Juno reversed. Whereas the 
 divine but jealous goddess turned Io into a cow, 
 Bridget, poor mortal, would have turned the cows 
 into a pair of old hags like dame Walkup, if she 
 could. 
 
 As to Zadkiel's state of mind, the truth was he 
 had felt rather plucked ever since the affair of the 
 milking. He had done the right thing in owning 
 up his mistake and begging Biddy's pardon, but 
 it had given her the advantage of him in more 
 ways than one. It soon became evident that she 
 was taking the lead in the Grayson service, in all 
 household matters, especially in that of fuel. Her 
 war-like attitude as she stuffed the "stave," with 
 the avowed "intinshin iv firing up the big barrel 
 on the tap iv it," was enough to rout a more per- 
 sistent foe than Zadkiel ever had been. In spite 
 of her sudden outbursts of temper she had grown 
 94 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 into the esteem and confidence of the entire fam- 
 ily until it seemed to the watchful Zadkiel, that 
 they thought more of her and deferred more to 
 her judgment than to his own. They could not 
 help it of course, he told himself — she was so good 
 hearted and so merry and kind to everybody — that 
 is, so kind to every body except himself; and this 
 was what made it so hard to bear, for he had be- 
 gun to like her as well as the others — only in a dif- 
 ferent way ; and her essays of power tormented 
 him more than he felt able to endure. With the 
 consciousness of his love for Biddy came the belief 
 that he would have to do very differently from 
 what he was doing in order to win her love, or as 
 he put it — in order "to get hold of the onreason- 
 able critter" — some brave act outside of this hum- 
 drum, unheroic round. Poor plodding Zadkiel! 
 Caught for the first time in the toils of love, he 
 felt his position all too keenly and looking out on 
 the turbulent world he saw his chance ; and having 
 squared it with his ideas of duty and patriotism 
 he was as firm as a rock. 
 
 All of Mistress Grayson's arguments had been of 
 no avail; but he was thinking of them and wond- 
 ering if Bridget would have anything to say about 
 his going away when he turned suddenly around 
 and saw her standing close by his side. 
 
 "An it's goin' t' fight the Indayans ye ar-re, 
 whin yer grandmither wor wan iv thim;" said 
 Bridget, in a voice, at once soft and deprecating. 
 
 Zadkiel felt his blood tingling from head to heels 
 95 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 but he had a little of the Indian stolidity in his 
 nature and it helped him through bravely. 
 
 "I can't tell who I shall fight agin' yet," he re- 
 plied gravely, "I'm going tu steer right straight 
 tu the center of the disturbance and find out where 
 the right lays and then jine in with that side." 
 
 "Och! indade! the mair ye thravel afther the 
 right the farther off ye'U be from the same. It's 
 the more right 'ull come to thim that sthop at 
 home than they know how to perforrum," said 
 Bridget in the gentlest of tones. 
 
 Zadlciel smiled. "Yu know Biddy, that poor 
 ignorant critters like myself need tu go away to 
 school sometimes tu learn how tu behave at home. 
 They didn't have any schools up at Red River 
 where I was born and after I dropped down here 
 I felt so much obliged tu Mr. Grayson for not let- 
 ting me freeze tu death on his door-stone, that I 
 thought I ought tu work for him night and day 
 and Sundays too." 
 
 Bridget looked at Zadkiel sharply through mis- 
 ty eyes, and having discovered his feeling as well 
 as his weakness, she proceeded to sympathize with 
 the one and pepper the other with characteristic 
 alacrity. 
 
 "It's a litthle diversion ye be in nade iv at the 
 present time, I'm free to say, instid iv going off 
 on a cauld and lonesome journey. It's the blissid 
 time for sitting sthill an' thinking the sowl of 
 ye belongs to yersilf and ithers the same, instid 
 iv rooshing off to thim bludy wars the which were 
 
 96 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 invinted be the divel himself for the driving iv the 
 sowls out iv the bodies iv men, the where they were 
 intinded to sthop 'til the blissid Lord himself calls 
 for thim. I'm free to say it's not for the loikes iv 
 yerself that's so tinder iv heart to spaichless baists, 
 an' some ithers, to run off to the murthering iv 
 gr-rait fields iv human beings, with tongues like 
 yer own ar-riddy made for the spaichefying an' 
 argyfying an' the sittling iv diffykilties." 
 
 Bridget wiped her eyes with the corner of her 
 apron and wound up with added energy. 
 
 "It's thim as have bin saized upon from ther 
 cradils an idykated fer the divilish business an' 
 had the hearts within thim turned to stones that 
 ken perforrum the devil's wurruk sooksisfully." 
 
 "I know I havn't been educated for a soldier 
 Biddy, and I know it would be mighty hard for 
 me to stand up as straight as a stove pipe after 
 bending over the pertater patch so many years. 
 It would be still harder for me tu look fero- 
 ciouser'n a tiger when there wern't no tigers to 
 look at. And what's more I don't hanker for war 
 as a stiddy business, nor for an amusement either. 
 Nobody need tu get up one on my account ; but 
 I have been brought up tu believe that it's my 
 bounden duty tu fight if necessary for home or 
 loved ones, living or dead. I wouldn't go a thou- 
 sand miles tu see an army neither, but when one 
 comes without invite tu the very place I was born 
 at, I think it's high time tu go and see what they'r 
 there for and try tu prevent 'em from trampling 
 
 7 97 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 on my dead mother's grave. I'm not going tu 
 kill anybody if I can help it, I'm going tu du my 
 best tu prevent killings and pow-wows and quarel- 
 ings over dead folks' graves ; so help me Lord Al- 
 mighty !" said Zadkiel firmly. 
 
 It was enough. Aunt Judith had said that Zad 
 was terribly set in his way; and now Biddy knew 
 that it was true. 
 
 98 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BRIDGET SAYS THEEE IS NO EIGHT SIDE TO WAE. 
 
 AND yet Bridget was not at all crest- 
 fallen at her failure to change Zadkiel's 
 resolve. She had made some discover- 
 ies for herself and they were of a grat- 
 ifying nature ; besides, she had the happy faculty 
 of believing in contrary things as well as the Irish 
 habit of saying contrary things ; and as soon as 
 she saw that Zadkiel was determined to go, she be- 
 gan to look at his side of the question and found 
 at least two good reasons why it would be best 
 for him to do so. 
 
 "Och !" she said to Mistress Grayson, when she 
 came in from the stable, "it's not the bloody war 
 after all. The true rayson is to see about his 
 mither's bayr-ring ground, joost as a good, tend- 
 er hearted son shud — from wich raysonable wurruk 
 the howly saints pravint me from interfarein. It's 
 not long he'll be gone you may b' shuir ; an' it '11 
 do him good t' take a bit iv rist an' a litthle peep 
 at the wurreld, from the which he's bin daybar- 
 
 99 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 red fer thirty years or more. It's meself that'l 
 attind t' th' bags iv Spot an' Brindil 'til the ray- 
 turn — to rayquite him for sphiting him abute the 
 fuel an' such," added Bridget with a repentant 
 sigh. 
 
 "And so you have set your seal on Zad's going 
 instead of inducing him to stay at home," said 
 Aunt Judith sharply. 
 
 Her only answer was a copious shower of tears. 
 
 "Well, never mind Biddy," she said, laying her 
 hand gently on the girl's shoulder. "We shall 
 manage somehow and I'm sure it's very kind of you 
 to offer to do extra wprk on his account. Perhaps 
 you are partly right after all. It may be he does 
 need a little change after all these years ; but I 
 never thought of it before. I don't know but I 
 ought to have encouraged him to take vacations, 
 but I surely never did." 
 
 "Joost," said Bridget. "It's the way with iv- 
 ery wan iv us. We fergit t' put on our thinking 
 caps whin we naid thim the maist. Aven Misther 
 Zadkiel will lave of his raymaining notions abute 
 bloody-war, whin he's the time t' put on his think- 
 in' cap an' go an' sit down be his mither's grave 
 an' see how paicfil she shlaips. He'll be thinking 
 it's amaist as bod t' go fighting an' murtherin' 
 for ithers, as for yerself, 'specially whin they be 
 dead an' wod be mair playsed, af thayr-re play- 
 sed at all, not t' have ony fighting at all — t' 
 shake an' roomble the ground in the wich theyr-re 
 drayming so swaithly, if thay be drayming at all. 
 100 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 Och! the right side iv war! It's not long he'll 
 be finding there's na sooch thing as a right side ta 
 a dayvilish wrong." 
 
 Thus was Mistress Grayson consoled for the 
 loss of the faithful man-of-all-work, Zadkiel, and 
 Biddy once having espoused his cause, proceeded 
 to enter into his preparations for going with the 
 same hearty zeal that she did into everything else. 
 
 And so it proved to be a very pleasant time to 
 Zadkiel- — the getting off. It brought back all his 
 old spirit and more, because it made him feel not 
 only how important he was to the Graysons but 
 to Bridget also ; who was never vexed with him any 
 more, but listened attentively or almost reverently 
 to his instructions and made the evenings bright 
 for him in her cozy kitchen. 
 
 To be sure they were not talking of love, but 
 they were getting acquainted with each other in a 
 preparatory way ; and Zadkiel was already look- 
 ing forward to the final parting with a strange 
 pleasure; for he felt that Biddy would melt at 
 last, sufficiently at least, to give him a warm shake 
 of the hand and perhaps a parting kiss ; either 
 of which he would accept as a pledge of loving 
 days, after he had come back, smartened and 
 improved by contact with the outside world. 
 
 Like many another poor mortal, Zadkiel's love 
 for Biddy had opened new vistas and he was think- 
 ing and feeling about things which he had never 
 thought of before. He knew that except for her 
 
 101 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 slurs and stings he never would have seen what a 
 dull plodding fellow he was — never would have 
 had a desire to see more of the world and do his 
 best in it, except for the stimulus of the passion 
 with which she inspired him. Poor Zadkiel! If he 
 failed it would be because he did not know what 
 "his best" was. 
 
 Bridget knitted him two whole pair of warm 
 socks and toed him two other pair while she plied 
 him with questions about the cold region to which 
 he was going. He re-produced his childish im- 
 pression of it as well as he could ; and that proved 
 to be remarkably well, with her apt questions to 
 rouse his homely eloquence. One evening he recall- 
 ed a little dark-skinned girl with whom he had 
 played. He remembered that she wore bright 
 glass beads around her neck on Sundays. He re- 
 membered taking her to ride over the snow drifts 
 on a sled he made out of the bark of a big tree 
 and of sliding over the icy river with her little 
 brown hand clinging tightly to his own. She 
 had beaded moccasins on her feet and he had new 
 shoes made of skins. He remembered she broke 
 the string to her beads one day and they went 
 rolling around on the glary ice. He remembered 
 it so well, because she cried bitterly and he had 
 such hard work to gather them up and she tried 
 to count them to see if he had found them all. 
 
 "An' what did ye be doing afther that," asked 
 Bridget, looking into his dreamy eyes doubtfully. 
 102 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Ah," said Zadkiel with a still farther away 
 look. "It. seemed years and years before sum- 
 mer came, but it came at last." Then he remem- 
 bered going with the same nut-brown maid to hunt 
 for flowers and bird's nests and winter-green ber- 
 ries. One day they found such a lot of the bright 
 red berries that they ate all they wanted of them 
 and he took the rest and made a long string of 
 beads so she could have some to wear every day 
 as well as Sundays. But they withered after a 
 day of two. Then he got a lot of birds eggs 
 and made beads of them ; but they were easily 
 broken and she cried every time she broke one. 
 
 "Och! the selfish craythur to let ye steal the 
 eggs to baydeck her neck! An did ye raymember 
 anything after that?" said Biddy. 
 
 Zadkiel smiled mysteriously and remembered 
 that the summer seemed very long to him and to 
 the little girl too, and sometimes they sat still 
 and wondered if the winter would never come 
 again ; but it did come and everything was all muf- 
 fled up in snow. The snow was so deep on the 
 roofs of the houses that the chimneys only just 
 stuck out. It covered the ground so deep that it 
 came plump up to the windows and above some of 
 them that weren't built high enough up. 
 
 "Indade," said Biddy ,"an' was it dark in the 
 little gurrel's house?" 
 
 Zadkiel could not remember that, but he looked 
 very sad and remembered waking up one morning 
 when everything looked so still and white. He 
 
 103 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 looked at his mother's face and that was white too 
 — so white it frightened him and he tugged away 
 at her hand but she did not stir. She was dead 
 but he did not know it. He thought she had only 
 turned white like everything else. He cried and 
 cried and called and called, until he was tired and 
 cold. Then he crawled under the blankets and 
 went to sleep. When he awoke again the neigh- 
 bors were standing around with spades and shov- 
 els, and a bull-train was bellowing at the door. 
 The next thing he remembered was that they bur- 
 ied his mother up in the snow and the next was 
 that they buried her up in the ground. 
 
 At this point of Zadkiel's rememberings Brid- 
 get stopped knitting and tried to hide her eyes 
 behind the stocking, but he saw the shining tears 
 slip down between the shining needles and the 
 stocking finally converted into a bag for them. 
 Then he went on more pathetically than ever. 
 
 He remembered just how the grave looked — the 
 tree that stood at the head of it and he was go- 
 ing to find it when he got there and get a monu- 
 ment for it. A monument as white as the driven 
 snow and tall enough to reach above the highest 
 snow drifts. 
 
 Biddy sighed and wiped her eyes with the meas- 
 ure stocking. Then she set him going again by ask- 
 ing: "An' what became iv ye, poor sowl, afther 
 they burried yer mither away from ye?" 
 
 "Somebody, I don't jest remember who, took 
 me and kept me for a spell. The next I remember 
 104 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 was of being on a boat and the next arter that 
 was of being on a farm where I staid and chored 
 'til the man sold out. Then he gave me five dol- 
 lars tu hunt up another home with. Then I cross- 
 ed the river and tramped up and down 'til twas all 
 spent and I got tired and hungry. Then I kinder 
 slumped down by this very house, yes, by that very 
 door," said Zadkiel pointing it out with his long 
 hand, "and good Mr. Grayson snaked me in, 
 thawed me out and fed me up, and here I've ben 
 ever sense, working, working, working for all 
 I'm wuth." 
 
 Another evening Biddy thought of what Mis- 
 tress Grayson said about his mother's naming him 
 after a prophet ; and so she made him tell her all 
 about that; show her the old almanac and point 
 out the prophecy about Russia, which had already 
 come to pass. Also the one about his own coun- 
 try which looked as though it might come to pass. 
 Biddy read them over and over again with an 
 awe-struck face, covered the soiled outside leaves 
 with a piece of her red calico dress, and packed 
 it for him in the safest corner of his old hair 
 trunk. 
 
 The evening before he went, he had a great 
 many instructions to give her about this and that 
 and finally wound up by cautioning her to beware 
 of the Walkups, for if there were serious trouble 
 along the line, they would be sure to be in it and 
 try to make something out of it. 
 105 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 The next morning he went and Biddy really did 
 shake hands with him at parting and let him kiss 
 her on the forehead just exactly as he had hoped 
 that she would. 
 
 And so the poor deluded Zadkiel Renaud, went 
 from the comfortable home where he was needed 
 and appreciated, to a comfortless region, to seek 
 and suffer and fight for the truth — the hard-to- 
 find elusive truth — almost as hard to find and get 
 a good strong hold of, as the elusive Bridget ! But 
 Bridget, although very elusive in matters matri- 
 monial, was strong in the belief that there was 
 no right side to war and would have made Zadkiel 
 believe it also had he been a younger man and not 
 so "terribly set in his own way." 
 
 So she said at least and she was right so far 
 as war is concerned. About all that can be 
 said of it is that it is Government murder on 
 the wholesale plan. It's easy enough to see it, 
 when it gets down to the real business of it — 
 the killing, burning, lying and deceit. The quick- 
 witted Bridget saw it to begin with, and it is safe 
 to say that she knew the slow-witted Zadkiel 
 would see it in the end and recoil from it as 
 all truly honest minded men must sooner or later. 
 
 God speed the Christly knowledge that should 
 have come to him in early youth and which might 
 have been taught to him by his adored master, 
 Jeremiah Grayson, with illustrations that he would 
 never have forgotten to his dying day — ghastly 
 illustrations that had been branded on the father's 
 106 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 memory, when he responded to the call to "Come 
 to the Wilderness and identify his sons !" The 
 awful wilderness of blood and flame that the dear 
 mother had seen in her dying hour! and from 
 which she begged him to "hold them back!" His 
 ignorance prevented him from holding his own 
 sons back from the beastly war which sealed their 
 fate; but he could have held Zadkiel back from 
 his war-seeking mania and perhaps many a young- 
 ster that needed holding back much worse than 
 Zadkiel did — many a rash young man who having 
 been disappointed in his first love feels his first- 
 born desire to go and kill somebody; and is en- 
 couraged to do so much more than he is held back. 
 His conscience holds him back at first, but at the 
 crucial moment he goes to church and listens to a 
 sermon about an old-time saint who began his ca- 
 reer by organizing an army and ordering the kill- 
 ing of a king in order that he might gratify his 
 lust for the king's wife — after which he repents 
 and composes a hymn, that is so beautiful that it 
 is sung in the churches to this day. 
 
 The church presentation is rather too much for 
 the love-lorn young man. It staggers his belief. 
 It is too honestly told to suit his sick fancy. He 
 flatters himself that he could not do such a mean, 
 cowardly act as the old saint did, to begin with, 
 and he knows he could not write a penitential 
 psalm that would be accepted even by his own 
 church, so he turns away from the church to its 
 antithesis, the theatre, and sees a great histori- 
 
 107 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 cal play, or sword play, with a little history mixed 
 in. A play in which the dumb brutes are richly 
 caparisoned and the talking and killing brutes are 
 clad in wondrous armor ! A play in which the 
 clashing and clanging of fine steel, (the musical 
 metal) is supposed to harmonize with the still 
 nobler mettle of the grand chiefs of the army 
 who are so cunningly gotten up, so helmeted and 
 plumed as to make them look much grander and 
 taller than they are — almost tall enough to real- 
 ize the famous, but foolish old king's conceit 
 about knocking "out the stars of Heaven !" 
 
 From the same kingly standpoint the play is 
 truly "great" and highly barbarous. It reeks with 
 human hate and ambition. It makes monsters and 
 then kills them ; but the killing is deftly and clean- 
 ly managed. The story is told in language wor- 
 thy of a better sentiment. The indecent parts are 
 so glossed over and the decent parts so strongly 
 heightened that the love-blind young man be- 
 lieves it is true to life. He perceives that it is not 
 an impossibility. He is sure that he could do 
 all that the 'soldiers are required to do, or the chief s 
 either. He almost knows that he could learn to 
 thrust a sword to the right and left just as skill- 
 fully and wear the tallest kind of helmet and feath- 
 ers ! He hesitates no longer. He goes forth to 
 seek for a war and — finds one. 
 
 Surely it would have been a much harder task 
 for Jeremiah Grayson to have held back a fellow 
 that had received his teaching from the popular 
 108 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 source — a reckless fellow that wasn't at all par- 
 ticular what kind of war he got into, so that it 
 took him away from the girl that had jilted him 
 and made her commit suicide — than it would to 
 have held back a fellow possessing the qualities of 
 the steady old Zadkiel, whose love for Bridget, al- 
 though it had been the impelling or expelling force 
 to begin with, had not made away or been encour- 
 aged to make away so entirely with the moral 
 forces of his nature as to tempt him to go to war 
 for the sake of feeling that Bridget might hurl 
 herself into the other world on that account. 
 
 Jeremiah Grayson might or might not have 
 been able to have "held back" the reckless young 
 man herein described — especially after his expos- 
 ure to the popular teachings of the day! but it 
 will bear repeating again and yet again that if 
 he had told Zadkiel Renaud even during his 
 last sickness all that he might have told him, 
 he would never have thought of or mentioned 
 such a thing as going away from the Gray- 
 son farm to search for "the right side of 
 war!" If he had thought of going at all, it 
 would have been on a mission of justice and peace. 
 It would have been to say to his benighted brothers 
 in the great "Lonesome Land," of the bleak North- 
 west, that both sides of war were wrong, foully 
 wrong ! As it was we must trust, as the quick wit- 
 ted Blridget did, to ZadkiePs "tinderness" ;of 
 heart and also to his native honesty and common 
 sense, for a quick return. 
 
 109 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ANNETTE MAURY's JOURNEY. A SOLDIER FROM 
 
 THE SOUDAN. 
 
 A GREAT prairie covered with glistening 
 billows of snow as far as eye could 
 reach was the scene on which Annette 
 Maury was looking after two days of 
 railway travel. Her desire for change had been 
 gratified to the utmost verge. Not only was the 
 face of the earth changed but the people were 
 changed. As nature grew more silent and morose, 
 her fellow travellers became more talkative and 
 cheery. As the stretches between stations grew 
 longer and less interesting, the talks grew longer 
 and more interesting or amusing as the case might 
 be. 
 
 Representatives from all parts of the world 
 were there as might be expected; for a railway 
 coach is nothing if not a cosmopolite on wheels. 
 
 Mr. Maury had made the acquaintance of a 
 soldier from the Soudan and at the moment of 
 which we are speaking he was trying to call their 
 110 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 attention from the dreary outlook by a descrip- 
 tion of the Penjdeh valley. 
 
 "No wonder the English want Penjdeh for an 
 offset to this horrible region," remarked the sol- 
 dier, "and it grows worse and worse as we go up 
 from the border ! but Penjdeh valley, Miss Maury ! 
 It's as beautiful as madam Eve's garden. Such an 
 exquisite carpet of flowers! And the Murghab! 
 What a river that is ! Water-fowls of all kinds 
 skimming over its surface and here and there gray 
 old ruins rising above its banks. Then there are 
 shy-eyed gazelles and swift-footed antelopes skip- 
 ing over the hills. Our boys shot 150 pheasants 
 one day while marching through the valley. You 
 see Miss, war's good for something. Penjdeh 
 was Penjdeh, and that's all we knew about it, 
 'til the soldiers knocked around and saw how beau- 
 tiful it was." 
 
 The last sentences were in allusion to Miss Mau- 
 ry's abhorrence of war, freely expressed on the 
 first introduction of the topic between the two 
 men. 
 
 "It's the soldier that's good for something." 
 replied Annette, who was too unsophisticated to 
 suspect he might be skirmishing, so to speak, for 
 a bit of feminine praise. "If they'd only send 
 the soldiers to find out about beautiful and won- 
 derful things instead of to destroy them or to kill 
 people and burn cities." 
 
 Annette did not reflect that the soldier would 
 cease to be a soldier, except for war, nor go so 
 
 111 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 far as to say that the $55,000,000 which had re- 
 cently been voted for the Soudan War, would have 
 sent all the scholars in England on exploring ex- 
 peditions ; but what she said was evidently more 
 agreeable to her listener, than it would have been 
 had she put the scholar in the soldier's place. The 
 soldier as an indestructible individual was an 
 agreeable thought to the young man and the 
 sympathy of so pretty a young lady for the same, 
 might be easily appropriated to himself. 
 
 "A soldier's thanks," said he doffing his cap. 
 "It isn't much sympathy the poor devils get. 
 There's Gladstone, though, he hates war like your- 
 self. They say he values a soldier's life higher 
 than any statesman in the world and would have 
 let the Soudan go to the dogs rather than let 
 blood for it." 
 
 "Woolsey likes fighting though, deuce take me, 
 if he doesn't," said Mr. Maury. "You know he 
 won his spurs up at the Red River fighting 
 against that rascally Riel. I wonder if he thinks 
 DEI Mahdi is any more worthy of his steel." 
 
 Annette looked involuntarily at two figures that 
 had boarded the train at the last station. One 
 was that of a man so muffled in fur wraps as to 
 almost form -a disguise. The other was that of a 
 young girl, with a very shy manner as though 
 she might have been instructed to avoid obser- 
 vation. Neither of them showed any signs of hav- 
 ing paid attention to the conversation. 
 112 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "El Mahdi is El Mahdi," said the soldier, who 
 seemed to have fallen into this safe way of con- 
 firming a man's character, when his own knowl- 
 edge of him was not sufficient to enable him to 
 draw a satisfactory sketch; "but there's Osman 
 Digna ! He's a posy ; — and his chief, Taggish — 
 Faugh! I've seen them both. A pair of dirty 
 Injuns, swaddled up in dirty cotten sheets, would 
 make as good a show. If I were much of a hero, 
 I wouldn't ache to soil my blade with those fel- 
 lows." 
 
 "They've got one of our Governor Generals 
 over there now, philandering around. Dufferin. 
 I've seen Dufferin. He's no fighter," said Maury. 
 
 "Duffy's booming for the Ameer," replied the 
 soldier. 
 
 "Guess he can 'talk turkey' enough for that," 
 laughed Maury. I heard him speechify. He's 
 got lots of ideas. Plenty of ammunition of that 
 sort and he lets off where they don't hurt anybody. 
 He advised the settlers up with us to hang on to 
 their old log fires ; but they went right on get- 
 ting stoves just the same. Even the Injuns are 
 getting them into their wigwams and it makes a 
 deuced improvement in those smoky holes." 
 
 "I suppose he was looking at the subject from 
 the aesthetic standpoint," remarked Annette. 
 
 "O, yes, but he said it was more healthy too — 
 the old way of sending the heat up the chimney — 
 just as though we were in danger of dying of heat 
 8 113 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 in such a confounded cold region. He couldn't 
 make even a squaw believe such nonsense." 
 
 "A squaw's a squaw," laughed the soldier ; "and 
 most likely Duffy'l find Abdurahman is Abdurah- 
 man, before he gets though with the Ameer bus- 
 iness. Those fellows have tongue enough to ask 
 for what they want when they come to the cross- 
 roads. I've not hob-nobbed with Abdurahman nor 
 El Mahdi, but I've seen some of their stripe; and 
 you can't impress them more'n you can a flea's 
 noddle. I've had those fellows follow me into my 
 tent and look at and smell of my mess as though 
 they were dying to partake of it, but the moment 
 I urged them to eat, they'd rear back on their 
 haunches and yelp like insulted dogs. The fact 
 is, they want what they want, and if Dufferin 
 thinks they are going to take what he condescends 
 to offer them, unless it's mixed with powder and 
 shot, he's greatly mistaken." 
 
 Before long several other passengers joined in 
 the discussion which gradually broadened until it 
 very nearly overspread the whole eastern question. 
 It continued until they reached the next station. 
 Only one man got on there but he managed to 
 turn the conversation due west for a time at least. 
 
 114 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 WHY OTTER TAIL CITY WAS NAMED OTTEB, TAIL CITY. 
 
 HOLY Moses !" exclaimed the new 
 passenger, pounding his hands on 
 the stove until he made it jingle, 
 "if this ain't a regular clincher. 
 Forty degrees below zero ! That's colder by one 
 pair stairs, than it ever climbs down to, in Otter 
 Tail City, and we're famous for having purty snug 
 winter weather there. Plenty snug enough to 
 suit me at my time of life. If they had it any 
 snugger'n that in Otter Tail City, I think I'd 
 emigrate from Otter Tail City." This remark 
 was not aimed at anybody in particular, but a 
 rather young fellow passenger was sufficiently 
 struck with it or the frequent repetition of the 
 name in it to inquire "why Otter Tail City was 
 called Otter Tail City?" 
 
 This pertinent question called forth the whole 
 history of Otter Tail City from its earliest settle- 
 ment down to its present important position 
 among the "growingest cities" of the great North- 
 
 115 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 west, and that too without divulging the secret 
 of its name farther than to say "Otter Tail City 
 was most delightfully situated on Otter Tail 
 Lake." 
 
 Probably the young man was so dazed by the 
 elaborate description of the place that he ceased 
 to wonder why the tail of so desirable an animal 
 had been tacked onto it. At least he asked no 
 further questions and had it not been for a little 
 old man, who appeared to be deaf (judging from 
 the frequency with which he converted his hand 
 into an ear trumpet) the passengers would have 
 remained in ignorance as to the reason why Otter 
 Tail City was called Otter Tail City. 
 
 "I don't know as I heard correctly," said he 
 stretching his lengthy neck toward the citizen 
 from Otter, and applying his fleshly, home-grown 
 trumpet to his ear. "Why was it you said you 
 called Otter Tail City, Otter Tail City?" 
 
 "You see sir," replied the Otter man, in sten- 
 torian tones, "there was the lake to begin with; 
 and it was the finest lake you ever see in any 
 country;" and then he launched out into a de- 
 scription of the lake and its commerce, more 
 lengthy and elaborate than the one he had given 
 of the city. "And you see," he added, winding 
 up and placing his finger impressively on his nose, 
 — "Otter Tail City is beautifully situated right 
 at the head of Otter Tail Lake." 
 
 "Just so," said the deaf man, drawing in his 
 neck and settling down in his seat, "that's what 
 116 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 I understood you to say, but I'm a little hard o' 
 hearin' and warn't quite sure of it." 
 
 By this time the curiosity of the passengers 
 was too much aroused with regard to the naming 
 of Otter Tail City, to let go of the subject so 
 easily. Besides there was plenty of time for ques- 
 tions and as long as there are any questions 
 worth asking there is generally somebody ready 
 to ask them. This time it was a very plucky 
 looking man who was sitting about half-way down 
 the car. He had been listening attentively and 
 thought he saw where the others had failed to 
 elicit exact information. So he got up, shook 
 himself out and marched bravely to the front. 
 
 Then he sat down by the gentleman from Otter 
 and entered into a scattering conversation with 
 him, after which he said in a very decisive way. 
 
 "I should like to ask you one question — a plain 
 question ; and I should like a plain, pointed an- 
 swer." 
 
 "Certainly," said the Otter Tail man, "I like to 
 answer questions and answer 'em up to the handle. 
 I'm used to ,the business and it is no trouble at 
 all. Besides it gives me a chance to get acquaint- 
 ed with people which I might not otherwise have." 
 
 "Well," said the wary traveller, "I won't guar- 
 antee that you'll know any more about me after 
 you've answered my question than before. I won't 
 guarantee that, but I expect my own knowledge 
 will be increased, on a certain point. This is the 
 point." 
 
 117 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Why was Otter Tail Lake named Otter Tail 
 Lake?" 
 
 "Well you see, my dear sir, there was a city by 
 the name of Otter Tail City and it stood right 
 at the head of Otter Tail Lake. I've got a map 
 of the whole thing and you can see just how it's 
 situated," said the man from Otter, unfolding the 
 map and pointing out the exact spot; "and it's 
 one of the most sightfulest places you ever see, 
 and the most artistically built thing there is in 
 any country. Switzerland not excepted; and thb 
 oonvenientest— steps to go down to the water and 
 a grave yard and everything handy. And here's 
 the place for our splendid new church, we've just 
 got up the racket for. And here's a corner lot 
 for sale;" and so he went on pointing out places 
 of prospective interest and lots for sale, until the 
 plucky man's pluck gave out and he retreated to 
 his seat. 
 
 By this time, the desire to know why Otter Tail 
 City was called Otter Tail City, had spread among 
 the passengers until it threatened to assume the 
 form of a contagion. A man who had been poring 
 rather sleepily over a newspaper at the back end 
 of the car, roused up and came yawning forward. 
 He planted his back squarely in front of the stove 
 and faced the Otter City man. 
 
 "I bleev I've had a small nap," he said, yawn- 
 ing ; but I hear things sometimes when I'm more'n 
 half asleep. 
 
 118 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Did I understand you to say that they named Ot- 
 ter Tail City, Otter Tail City, on account of the 
 monstrous abundance of Otter Tails that they 
 harvest there?" 
 
 "Mebby that's what you understood sir, being 
 you were about half or three-quarters asleep, but 
 I was talkin' about the monsterous amount of bus- 
 iness done at Otter Tail City. Of its monsterous 
 growth and desirableness as a place of residence. 
 Of it's monsterous resources of all kinds ; but we 
 had a terrible tough time, you bet when we in- 
 corporated our city charter. We had to work 
 like beavers at a dam," he added, branching off 
 into a description of border politics which dis- 
 played a type of cunning that even a beaver would 
 not be guilty of. Having struck on such a pro- 
 lific subject he continued until his questioner was 
 in danger of having his back charred by standing 
 so long at the stove, and some of the more im- 
 pressible passengers showed signs of hysterical 
 agitation. Fortunately, however, the engineer's 
 whistle set up a series of terrific yells, indicative 
 of a buffalo on the track or the approach to an 
 important station. It proved to be the station at 
 the junction of the North Western road. It was 
 a number of miles away but the engineer usually 
 began playing with his whistle as soon as he saw 
 the chimney looming above the snow drifts of the 
 prairie. The desire to sight that interesting ob- 
 ject overcame the desire to know why Otter Tail 
 City was named Otter Tail City? 
 
 119 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "We gineraly take on some fellers from Dlooth, 
 at the junction," said a man who seemed to be ac- 
 quainted with the habits of the road, "a snow- 
 shovellers' brigade if there's a storm brewing. The 
 pesky In j ins can smell a storm the furthest of any 
 critters in the world. The Pike Peak weather- 
 watchers can't hold a candle to them." 
 
 A tall military looking man got on at the 
 junction. 
 
 "Why, how are you, Colonel Patt," said the last 
 named speaker. "Direct from Duluth, I reckon?" 
 
 "Yes ! yes ! Duluth has a wonderous charm for 
 me. My first love you know. Am sorry I moved 
 on sometimes, but I believe in moving on. After 
 you've done all you can to set one place a buzzin', 
 move on to the next. That's my doctrine. If you 
 work your passage you can't more'n get up to 
 the North Pole before you die. But what are they 
 doing up home now? What's the last kink in the 
 Legislature ?" 
 
 "Not much. It's the Injun reservation pow-wow 
 and the Women's Bill. You know the women are 
 on the war path now, as well as the Injuns. They 
 came blasted nigh having a victory too. They 
 captured both houses — right and left wing; but 
 they slipped up on the rest of the body and the 
 Governor kicked. Now they are getting badly 
 laughed at. Mrs. Major Pickling and all of 'em ." 
 
 "Well, tisn't safe to laugh at anything thet's 
 got any style to it, that's my doctrine," said the 
 Colonel. "I remember how the over-smart legisla- 
 120 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 ture laughed at Duluth, Little Duluth, sixteen 
 years ago, but little Duluth had a big heart in 
 her waiting to burst out and blossom in tip-top 
 style. They couldn't see it though, as far off as 
 Washington. They couldn't see that the minerals 
 of Dakota, Montana and Idaho — the wheat of 
 Oregon — the lumber and iron and copper and sil- 
 ver from all the nooks and hiding places of the 
 wild Northwest, were waiting to pour in upon her. 
 That all she needed was the iron horse to speed 
 them along ; and so when we asked for an appro- 
 priation for it they did nothing but laugh and 
 laugh. They began in the House of Representa- 
 tives. Then the Senate laughed. Then all the 
 newspapers laughed. Then all the people laughed 
 except we westerners. I guess there never was a 
 bigger laugh in any country. I remember the 
 width of it all-fired well, because I had a hand in 
 the presentment of that bill. It was January 21, 
 1871, soon after Riel and his brother savages had 
 been cutting up their didoes at Red River ; and 
 every confounded critter I tackled was more in- 
 terested in that pow-wow, which was none of our 
 business, than they were in our own affairs. Some 
 of 'em went so far as to say that our Government 
 ought to send enough troops up there to picket 
 our whole line and keep the little handful of reb- 
 els off from us. Yes, and they'd have voted for 
 it too, if the bill had been presented by some mili- 
 tary trickster — yes for 10,000 troops at $10,000 
 a day — all to go up in camp-fires and tobacco 
 121 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 smoke! but our little railroad appropriation, that 
 would make our products worth handling and our 
 cities worth living in — faugh ! You ought to have 
 heard those legislative numskulls talk. One of 
 their 'big guns' got up and made a big speech 
 about it. He wound up by saying 'it would be far 
 along in the dim vista of ages to come, before 
 these treasures could be poured into the lap of Du- 
 luth.' " 
 
 "Those are the very words. I've got 'em writ 
 down and I always carry 'em round in my vest 
 pocket. I felt pretty well cut up about it at the' 
 time. Nobody likes to have his bills laughed at." 
 
 "But they like to laugh at ours," remarked a 
 lady sitting near by. 
 
 "Yes, madam, politics are tickelsome things, 
 but laughing won't kill any bill that has any 
 width to it. It laid me up for a week or so, then I 
 braced up and pitched in harder than ever and 
 the bill had to come before I let go. Yes, madam, 
 it's 1885, now — only 16 years since the Washing- 
 ton Prophet said 'twould be far along in the dim 
 vista,' etc., before our treasures could be poured 
 into the lap of Duluth and there she is, with her 
 lap full! Gorgeous, hustling, bustling Duluth! 
 the morning and evening star of the Great Lakes. 
 That's the way things will turn out that have 
 any width to 'em madam." 
 
 122 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HALF-BREED POWWOW. 
 
 44 Y W0NDER who tnev are >" said Annette, 
 to the soldier, in a low tone ? She meant 
 the muffled-up man and the girl before 
 referred to. "They don't speak to any- 
 body in the oar but I saw him shaking hands and 
 talking with those wild looking men at the station." 
 "The men were the snow-shovel' brigade," said 
 the soldier. "They are all Indians or half-breeds, 
 and I presume he's of the same mixture. A French 
 half-breed is the most sociable fellow in the world 
 among his own kind. I've heard it said that they 
 staked out their lands up in the Red River coun- 
 try, in long narrow strips so they could live near- 
 er together. Do you know if that's true Mr. 
 Maury?" 
 
 "That's the style on the Saskatchewan and 
 they've had more than one pow-wow about it al- 
 ready," said Mr. Maury, in the loud tone of voice 
 natural to him. 
 
 "I suppose they got too sociable and then they 
 had to quarrel out," said the soldier. 
 
 123 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "No, that's not it," replied Maury. "They 
 were too previous about staking out their land. 
 They fixed it in long narrow strips, the narrow 
 end fronting on the river. That brought the 
 houses near enough together to form a straggling 
 sort of village along the bank, but after they'd 
 got it all done as they wanted it, along came the 
 Government and staked it all over again in great 
 square blocks, so that one man's buildings and 
 graveyard would often come on another man's 
 land. Then the pow-wow began." 
 
 "What possessed the Government to do that," 
 asked Annette in amazement? 
 
 "Well chicken," said Maury, "the Government 
 always does just as it's a mind to and never takes 
 any sass from anybody, let alone a pack of lazy 
 half-breeds that don't want to do anything but 
 set on a log and fish all summer and set by the 
 fire and drink fire-water and play cards all winter." 
 
 "But it wasn't right, Uncle Jack, you know it 
 wasn't." 
 
 "Well, mebby it wasn't, chicken, but it's a 
 mighty crooked world and we've got to put up 
 with it. There can't be anything much crooked- 
 er than a French-Injin. They look like Injuns 
 and behave like 'em; but the Scotch Injins, — 
 they look like white folks and take to white ways. 
 There's our premier for instance. He's a Scotch 
 half-breed but he doesn't look any more like an 
 Injun that Sir John. He's a regular tow-head 
 with a complexion as pink as sunrise." 
 124 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "But the Government ought not to do crooked 
 things even if others do, Uncle. It ought to do 
 right." 
 
 "Well mebby it will in the end. I told them a 
 few things when I was up there the other day. 
 But Government is a slow coach anyway, and the 
 folks are slower out at that end than they are at 
 this end. I think the capital ought to be moved 
 more to the centre. Then they could see better 
 what's going on at both ends, and have a chance 
 to catch some of our go-aheadativeness. My the- 
 ory is, that genuine go-aheadativeness is about 
 as catching as the small pox and much more valu- 
 able." 
 
 "I tell you what 'tis," said a swarthy man, 
 hitching around in his seat, "them French Injuns 
 ain't much but Injuns, but if they don't get the 
 same rights that the Scotch settlers get there'll 
 be music up there on the Saskatchewan and they 
 ain't a going to wait a hundred years for it nuth- 
 er ; and don't you f ergit it. The lady's right. 
 The Government ought to do the straight thing, 
 That's what they're for and using our money, 
 plague take 'em." 
 
 "Yes, to the tune of 4,000 pounds a piece, I 
 reckon," said his companion. "We have to pay 
 a heap o' money for being lorded over. Dufferin 
 and Woolsey are lording it in Egypt now. I've 
 read how the poor Fellaheens have to pay five 
 dollars an acre for their own land since the Eng- 
 lish Government has got its paw on it. Woolsey 
 
 125 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 had better come over here if he wants his head 
 punched." 
 
 "If Riel was in the Scotch Premier's shoes the 
 French Indians would get all the rights they want," 
 said another man. "It makes a difference who's 
 at the 'helium,' and I believe he might have beeil 
 if he hadn't gone into that nonsense about the Red 
 River boundary. He's the poplarest man with the 
 French Injuns and French Canucks too." 
 
 "Riel! Thot rascally dawg," said a veritable 
 John Bull. "He ought to have been honged in- 
 stead of being sent ovah the bawder. The Eng- 
 lish Government always has treated the Indians 
 fairer thon any other nation, but it con't awford 
 to go into buffalo fawming and nothing short 
 would suit the French hawf-breeds of the Riel 
 style." 
 
 "That's a d — md lie, said the swarthy man ris- 
 ing in his seat and glaring fiercely at the English- 
 man. The French half-breeds are as good farm- 
 ers as the Scotch and a d — md sight better than 
 English dudes or scabs or snobs that come to this 
 country on purpose to skin us out of the game 
 that naturally belongs to us and which we know 
 how to make good use of; and if anybody says 
 that they ain't agin in this car, I'll make him eat 
 his words, d — m me if I don't." 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the conductor, "I must ask 
 you to be quiet. We don't allow anything of that 
 kind on this train." 
 
 126 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Aw," said John Bull, with impurturbable cool- 
 ness, "if anybody's onything to settle with me, 
 I'll stop off awver the bawder. Thaw don't aw- 
 law dueling on the American side." 
 
 "Howsomever," said another man of a less 
 swarthy aspect, "when an English or Scotch Lord 
 comes over to Manitoba, we know what it means 
 every time. It means land. What was Lord Sel- 
 kirk's mission in our country, or his pesky agent, 
 Macdonel? It was land for the surplus population 
 of the Scotch Highlands. The French Indians 
 made it lively for him though, and good enough 
 for him too. The miserable, land-grabber. He 
 had lots of land at home, but not an acre of it 
 would he give to the poor Highlanders. The 
 Earl of Buccleuch owned 60,000 acres in Selkirk 
 and two or three other big-bugs owned the rest 
 of the township. 
 
 "Thaws a great deal of wawter in their lond. 
 It's a famous place to go a fishing, Selkirk is, 
 and its famous for black faced sheep, though there 
 arn't so mawny other kinds of hawf and hawfs as 
 you'll discover around these pawts," said John 
 Bull, looking complacently on his audience and 
 pointing his cool glance at the swarthy man, as 
 much as to say that the fight was still on and he 
 was sure to squelch his enemy before it was over. 
 
 "You see how it is, Miss Maury, " said the sol- 
 dier, "people get to quarreling about houses and 
 lands or something of the kind. Neither will give 
 
 127 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 in, so they have to fight it out. It's the same with 
 governments." 
 
 "But, I don't believe in it," said Annette, " and 
 I can't see why the Indians are treated so badly, 
 or the French Indians either." 
 
 Annette's hatred of war and her sympathy with 
 the poor Indian, were inherited traits which were 
 being put to the test and she spoke up in a clear 
 tone of voice that quite astonished even herself. 
 But why should she not express her own feelings 
 as well as others ? Why not drop her white mes- 
 sage of peace on the turbulent spirit that had been 
 evoked ? 
 
 "She gets that from her quaker ancestry, not 
 from my side of the house," said Maury, nodding 
 to the soldier; "but life at the Fort with plenty 
 of redskins cutting up like devils will correct such 
 sentiments soon enough, I rekon." 
 
 Annette glanced again at the muffled-up man 
 and young girl. In fact her eyes had not been off 
 from them more than a minute at a time since their 
 first appearance. The girl had been sitting as still 
 as a stone with her face fairly glued to the window, 
 while the man had sat in silence and with bowed 
 head ; but now both of them had turned around in 
 their seat and were looking at her — the girl with 
 soft dark eyes and the man with a keen fixity of 
 attention that almost startled her. 
 
 "0, I forgot to tell you Coloned Patt," said 
 the Dakota man, "there was a hull string of arm- 
 ed men, 36 besides the officers, with mule teams and 
 128 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 lots o' rations, went through our place two weeks 
 ago. I talked with a couple of 'em. They didn't 
 seem to have any secrets. They said they belonged 
 to the Irish Republican Brotherhood and their 
 captain used to be Cafferty's best man and their 
 sargeant was from the United States Infantry." 
 
 "What ! McCafferty of the row of 1865," ex- 
 claimed Colonel Patt? 
 
 "That's what they talked. There was a Mc- 
 Cafferty in it, wasn't there? I declare there's so 
 much going on out our way that I didn't think 
 but plaguey little about it. By the way, what was 
 the name of the noted Boer rebel? They pretend- 
 ed to have their orders from him. He must be a 
 wild one to go before the Assassination Committee 
 and swear he'd never been guilty of deserting them. 
 That was the yarn ; but I couldn't get head nor 
 tail to it. Men talk in that bloody, scarey way 
 sometimes, when they're only prospecting for mule 
 pastures." 
 
 "O'Donivan Rossa was the notorious Boer's 
 name, I heard he was in New York. By the lord 
 harry! If that's the style of the thing it means 
 the dead march in Saul," said Colonel Patt, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 He got up, shook out his trousers, buttoned up 
 his coat to the chin and called out to the conduc- 
 tor — "Bless your soul, how slow this train does 
 
 o-o!" 
 
 129 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SEWS ITEMS AT THE CAMP OF MEDICINE HAT BILL. 
 
 LIKE all other luxuries, newspapers were 
 scarce at the camp of Medicine Hat Bill. 
 A Therefore it was no wonder that a soiled 
 half-sheet of The Halifax Star as well as 
 the news it contained should be a matter of great 
 interest. This particular star or wreck of a star, 
 may have been drifted in, or snowed down, by the 
 bitter storm of the morning, for aught anyone 
 appeared to know about it; but the fact that it 
 was there and had such an interesting report as 
 the arrival of Her Majesty's war-ship "The Bull- 
 frog," was enough to create a sensation ; although 
 the announcement was coupled with the explana- 
 tion that "The Bullfrog" had come up from the 
 gentle Bermudas instead of coming over from the 
 "lion's lair," England, and with no more savage 
 intent than the protection of the Newfoundland 
 fisheries. Medicine Hat Bill grappled the sheet 
 with his iron-like hand and eyed the item with 
 fierce incredulity — turning and twisting it around 
 180 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 and cocking his eye at it, as though bound 
 to wring or frighten out of it any meaning, 
 which in war-like phrase, might be "lurking in am- 
 bush" behind a wintry looking forest of words 
 and letters. 
 
 "It's t — time to strike now, I swow 'tis," said 
 Root Grumpy, "afore that d — md b-bullfrog gets' 
 re-inforced. Ye s-see if-a b-bullfrog gets re-in- 
 forced it means music, d — m me if it don't and 
 if the que-que-quenn's own b-bullfrog get's re-in- 
 forced, its devilish rough music we should have by 
 je-je-jeminy. It would be a wuss pickle for us 
 poor rats to swim around in, than England will 
 have if she dil-dilly-dallies 'til Russia gets re-in- 
 forced, d-d — m me if t'won't." 
 
 "Grumpy you've got a reinforcement of fire- 
 water in your skull, or you'd know such kind of 
 bullfrogs would have a hard squeeze to get through 
 the Saskatchewan even if they could be lugged 
 over Xiake Superior on snow shoes," said Medicine 
 Hat Bill, in a tone of good natured but rough 
 rebuke. "It's what's inside of that blasted bull- 
 frog, that I'm trying to speer out. If there's a 
 lot of big English bulldog guns and good ammuni- 
 tion to help Canada's little bulldogs and poor 
 ammunitions, I'd be glad to know it, that's all." 
 
 "I reckon Hengland's going to let Canada fight 
 on 'er own 'ook's," said Pott Beard. "She thinks 
 those raw-heads up at the seat of Government with 
 Major Bottom's cow-boy cavalry can clear out 
 the whole of us north-westers ; but cowboys have 
 
 131 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 tricks of their own as well as the Government, I 
 reckon and I shouldn't wondaw if they'd make 
 'em play a tune before they get through. They 
 won't be likely to do their butchering for nothing. 
 Did you hear of the cowboys down below who 
 held up a railroad train and made a bawnd of 
 singers give them a free concert? They were as 
 hungry for music I reckon, as some others are 
 for bread." 
 
 Pott Beard was one of the disaffected English set- 
 tlers who had been turned from loyalty to the Gov- 
 ernment by its action in sending its troops to quell 
 the rebellion, instead of relying on the volunteers 
 of the affected districts. Poor Pott had nothing 
 to do during the long and dreary winter and 
 would gladly have turned soldier for the Govern- 
 ment for enough to eat and drink and would have 
 squared his loyalty by the quality and quantity 
 of the rations ; but being ignored he had taken it 
 as a special grievance and turned in with the reb- 
 els. True to his needs if not to his nature his in- 
 terest centered mainly in the capture of Govern- 
 ment supplies. 
 
 "I tell you what it is," added Pott, "I'm going 
 to keep a shawp look out for the pipes and to- 
 bacaw that Princess Lawise sent to Middleton's 
 troops. If I don't cut off some of thaws supplies 
 I hope to be blasted and boiled down. Remem- 
 baw this one and all." 
 
 "Don't forget to bring Duffy a pair of blue 
 goggles," said Glee Farrel. "All you'd have to do 
 132 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 would be to lay out one of the 'Queen's Own' and 
 rip off his eye-covers. The whole regiment of the 
 precious 'Queen's O's were all goggled up for their 
 trip across Lake Superior — they were so afraid 
 of having their eyes dazzled out of their heads, 
 and that marching business isn't nothing like so 
 eye-gouging as the scouting business where you 
 have to keep your eyes turned out to pasture every 
 moment of the time." 
 
 "Thanks for yer kind intintions," said Duffy 
 — Duffy Fenian, as he was called on account of 
 being in the Fenian raid a few years before. "I 
 niver did have the eyes iv me so blinded as I did 
 yisterday a looking afther thim divilish British- 
 ers." 
 
 No one could look at the red eyes trying to 
 seek shelter from the smoke and light of the room, 
 under the narrow brim of the shabby fur cap and 
 doubt Duffy's need of goggles, when exposed to 
 the fiercer out-of-'doors light of fierce wintry 
 weather and nobody but Pott Beard would have 
 thought of making a joke of it. 
 
 "Perhawps you'd have to wear your gawgles 
 on your mouth Duffy. I heard of one fellaw 
 that did," said Pott with a haw ! haw ! in which the 
 company joined, with three exceptions. One was 
 Duffy himself, who looked sullen and aggrieved. 
 Another was Medicine Hat Bill, who was too deep- 
 ly engrossed in the news, to have a clear idea of 
 what had been said, and the other was Zadkiel 
 
 133 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Jtenaud, who remarked, with a soft voice and a 
 far-away look: 
 
 "It's a bad thing to accuse anybody wrong- 
 fully, Pott Beard. I know because I done it once 
 myself ; so't I can't blame yu as I otherwise would ; 
 but what I can tell yu is, that it's a thing that 
 orter be repented of as soon as we catch ourselves 
 at the business." 
 
 At this moment the door latch rattled as though 
 a child might be trying to master it. The door 
 was one of those ungainly affairs which are intend- 
 ed " for men only ;" the latch being placed high up 
 on it and requiring a sharp hitch to open it. 
 
 "I understand this brawnch of the service, with- 
 out any instructions from raw-heads," said Pott, 
 hopping up and going to the door. "Don't be 
 scared none of you. It cawn't be anybody awf- 
 ter your scalps that taps iso gently." 
 
 No one had thought of being scared, but no one 
 was at all prepared for the vision that the open 
 door disclosed. It was that of a dusky, but hand- 
 some girl, with a white bandage in her shapely 
 hands. She was accompanied by a big dog. 
 
 "It's for the sick-eyes," she said, holding out 
 the bandage toward Medicine Hat Bill. "It must 
 be put on warm." 
 
 "Just so, but you needn't have brought it your- 
 self," said Medicine Hat Bill, deprecatingly, as he 
 pushed Pott aside, thus ending a flattering speech 
 which he had began. He took the bandage and 
 shut the door at the same instant. The next in- 
 134 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 stant he put the bandage on Duffy's eyes and re- 
 turned to his paper without a word of comment. 
 
 "Here's a note of interest for you Duffy," said 
 Medicine Hat Bill, turning to that afflicted fellow 
 with the kindly idea of amusing him. "The Irish 
 indulged in a riot, when the Prince and Princess of 
 Wales passed through Cork. The Princess nar- 
 rowly escaped being hit by an onion." 
 
 "An' I would that she had bin hit or rather the 
 Prince," said Duffy. "He that goes capering 'round 
 an' a spending the money that poor folks aim 
 for him, an' they a doing his butchering wurruks 
 for him in't the bargin. I baygin to think it's 
 thim that's got all the money, that ought to go to 
 the wars. If the loikes iv thim were hurted, they'd 
 have plenty iv money to buy the comforts." 
 
 "The confounded Q. O's have got as far as Rat 
 Portage," exclaimed Medicine Hat Bill, after a 
 silence during which he had been reading assidu- 
 ously. The rest of the company were thinking 
 more about the handsome girl that had come and 
 gone so suddenly than of the "Queen's Own," or 
 the "Princess and the onion" — that is if the next 
 remark can be taken as an index. 
 
 "Let them come. They'd find us supplied with 
 bawndages," said Pott, winking at the others to 
 emphasize his smartness. 
 
 "Pott Beard," growled Medicine Hat Bill, rais- 
 ing his powerful fist and shaking it fiercely toward 
 him, "if you don't want to take a good strong smell 
 of- that, you needn't say that again, nor nothing 
 
 185 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 off from the same piece. I can tell you right now, 
 that it won't be me that'll waste a pinch of powder 
 on your green old gizzard. You haven't got any 
 more patriotism under your measly blinking phiz, 
 than an old blotched checker-board." 
 
 "Thawt's rawther too hard, my pard," said 
 Pott coolly. "I never pretended to hawv so much 
 pawtriotism as some others, but I'm improving 
 and no knowing what'll occur. Sir John himself 
 began as a boot black. From heels to head lies 
 the line of progress. I've got as far as the stom- 
 ach now. It's the supplies I'm awfter and nobody 
 around this cawmp cawn say they're not needed 
 awt once." 
 
 "You'll go after them to morrow morning early 
 and don't you forget it Pott Beard, and don't 
 you forget this either. If you go to cutting up 
 any of your jigamarees, or sticking your nose 
 into anybody's mess around these diggins, you'll 
 be raven's meat before you can say Robin Hood's 
 Barn." 
 
 136 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ROOT GRUMPY's DRUNKEN WIT. 
 
 AFTER settling his man in brutal, war 
 camp style, Medicine Hat Bill settled 
 himself again to the Halifax Star. 
 "Hear this ! It's good news boys. If true 
 it will give time for the grass to grow for the pon- 
 ies. 'The icebergs are knocking the boats around 
 uncommon lively in the gulf.' It's late for the Gulf 
 to be a kicking with her cold foot. 'The Young 
 Prince!' that's an English boat and it's got 'an 
 iceberg hitched onto it that has been hauling it 
 around for nineteen days.' Bully iceberg! Hit him 
 again! That's what will give the Piegans a 
 chance with their ponies. They'll never join us un- 
 til their ponies have been to grass," 
 
 "That's good ! First rate !" said Grumpy rous- 
 ing up from his drunken sleep. That's as lively as 
 a Dutchman's jig. That iceberg ought to have 
 waltzed around with the deuced 'Bullfrog'. I'd 
 have done it if I'd been a niceberg, by jimminy I 
 would. I'd just as soon waltz around with a Bull- 
 frog' as a big-bellied young prince." 
 
 137 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Root Grumpy," laughed Medicine Hat Bill, 
 "if you touch that medicine bottle again you'll 
 have to be put in the stocks. We haven't got 
 any medicine to throw away and we don't want 
 any of your money in the place of it. I shall have 
 to give the supply man orders if you don't let 
 it alone, and you ought to be ashamed to put me 
 to that disagreable business, with all the rest of 
 my work." 
 
 "Yes, I'll be Mowed if I hadn't," replied Grum- 
 py, "and I will be ashamed by jimminy I will, Prov- 
 idence permitting. Duffy's a good Odd Templar 
 fellow, by jimminy, he is. Duffy will see that I 
 don't have any more dynamite." 
 
 The company roared with laughter at Grumpy 's 
 mixed ideas of dynamite and whiskey, Odd Fel- 
 lows and Good Templars and agreed that he must 
 have been indulging freely in mixed drinks. 
 
 "I expect you'll let alone the regular medicine 
 bottle and take a nip of the 'Black Dew,' Grumpy, 
 my boy," said an old Calleo skipper man. "By 
 gar if that ain't named queer though. T'aint 
 many in these parts that know what genuine black 
 dew is, and if the bottled kind stuck to the in- 
 sides as tight as the real kind does to the outsides 
 of things, I guess it would be let alone fast enough. 
 It would be forty thousand times worser than the 
 Tarantula Juice over in Montana." 
 
 "Suppose you tell us the brand," remarked 
 Grumpy. 
 
 138 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Brand!" exclaimed Skipper. "No company 
 ever branded it. It does the branding. It can 
 paint a ship's bottom dirt black all of itself. It 
 rises on the water like grease on a pork pot. Some 
 folks say it's whale-spit ; but if that's true I guess 
 all the whales in all the oceans must go to Calleo 
 to spit. There ain't any genuine black dew any 
 where else that I know of, and I guess nobody 
 knows what in tarnation it's made of, unless it is 
 made of tar. The nigger-haters that come there 
 from Alabama say it's made of nigger pelts." 
 
 "There's another one of the things that we don't 
 know the truth of," said Zadkiel, who was think- 
 ing of his experience with Biddy and the almanac 
 and other happenings of a more recent occurrence. 
 "The world's a running over full of 'em and yet 
 we go to war with one another and kill one another 
 instead of banding together and hunting up mys- 
 terious things and finding out what's inside of 
 'em." 
 
 Something in the man's earnest tones made ev- 
 erybody turn in his direction ; but it was the un- 
 impressible Pott Beard that broke the silence. 
 
 "Hello thawr old Zawd! Them's your senti- 
 ments ! They don't smell much stronger of pawtri- 
 otism thawn some others. I reckon you'll be the' 
 one thawt'll hawv to go with me awfter the sup- 
 plies. You'll not forget to take along your 
 dawd's old gun and your grandawd's bowie 
 knife. It requires a gun to hunt up the truth in 
 these pawrts, and a bowie knife to skin it off." 
 
 139 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "I shall go where my superior officer orders me 
 tu," replied Zadkiel; and as tu the rest of your 
 slings and slurs they'r wuth just about as much as 
 a last year's bird's nest. I take it that every- 
 body here knows that I don't believe in war as a 
 rule, and that I think this muss orter'v ben settled 
 without one, but it hasn't ben and I guess I've 
 fallen in with the right side. All I'd have asked 
 of the Government would have been tu let my 
 mother's burying ground alone, and not have gone 
 and thrown it on the land of them that wern't no 
 kin." 
 
 It will be seen from this that Zadkiel had visited 
 his old home and sought out his mother's grave 
 as intended. Also that he had found his grievance 
 there, for the land had been re-surveyed by Gov- 
 ernment authority, making her burial place come 
 on a neighbor's farm. It was there that Medicine 
 Hat Bill found him and took him into his camp. 
 
 "It's always the reserves, dead or alive, with 
 the Indiawns," laughed Pott. "If Colonel Otter'd 
 hawd known a thing or two about Indiawn ways 
 he'd not gone to Poundmaker's reserve to pay his 
 respects. The Siouxs have eyes in their heads 
 awnd now's the time to use them. Two or three 
 hundred strung around a reservation, behind trees 
 awnd such, are better'n port holes with rusty guns 
 sticking out in plain sight, any day. But he 
 showed his best cunning when he captured the sup- 
 ply train. Thirty wawgons ! only think of thawt ! 
 Thawt's what I envy him. Then he sent the team- 
 140 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 sters back for Colonel Otter to feed, so's not to 
 reduce the supplies. Thawt's the tawnsy!" 
 
 "Pound-maker's cunning nuf," said Glee Ferrin, 
 "but he'll give out if Riel's defeated — he and his 
 chiefs, Lean-man, Breaking-ice and Yellow-mud- 
 Blanket, but Big-bear, he'll give 'em a chase if 
 they get after him. Let him once make a bee line 
 for his native woods and its a high old tangle he'll 
 get 'em into. Just fancy full fed Englishmen 
 pitching into that morass on Loon Lake, with 
 strings of holes for trails and lots o' musk-eyes 
 to make it lively! There's one place where they 
 have to go on the tops of trees, and another where 
 they have to jump from stone to stone. If you 
 miss one o' the stones you go kerplunk into bot- 
 tomless mud — mud that's too thick for swimming 
 purposes, you bet. The English would need a 
 good supply of 'shandy-gaff' to pull 'em thru, 
 but Big-bear and his cubs can skip over it like 
 empty bucks." 
 
 It turned out that Zadkiel was one of the num- 
 ber detailed to go out with Pott Beard the next 
 day to look for supplies. They returned at eve- 
 ning with two prisoners and exciting news. The 
 prisoners were Annette Maury and her Uncle. The 
 news was that an Indian massacre had occurred at 
 Frog Lake, in the vicinity of the fort from which 
 the prisoners had come. Annette's recognition 
 of Zadkiel had thus far saved them from harm and 
 a generous lunch basket which proved to be a 
 
 141 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 rare supply for Pott Beard, had made it seem 
 more like a picnic than a capture, but they hardly 
 expected to fare as well with the commander-in- 
 chief to whom they were escorted in due order. 
 
 142 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE RECOGNITION AND DISCOVERY. 
 
 IN the so-called "Council House," was a large 
 volume containing Riel's new religious views, 
 largely interspersed with admonitions, mira- 
 culous visions and explanations of strange 
 events. His religious aim, succinctly stated, was 
 to bring his people, "The Metis," out of the 
 Church of Rome into the Universal Catholic 
 Church. 
 
 When Annette and her Uncle were ushered into 
 his presence, he was sitting with his back to the 
 door, at a rough table, before a cross of curious 
 Indian manufacture. His hands were clasped over 
 his breast, his head was raised, he was silent and 
 motionless. There was such an air of reverence 
 and spiritual preoccupation in his attitude, that 
 Annette sank down involuntarily on a seat by the 
 door, and Maury and Zadkiel stood still with 
 bowed heads. Five minutes is a long time for a 
 silent prayer, in a room so still that you can hear 
 your heart beat ; but it was fully five minutes be- 
 
 143 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 fore Riel turned to his prisoners. Annette arose 
 with an exclamation of surprise and stepped for- 
 ward as if to greet an old acquaintance. Then 
 she hesitated and said: 
 
 "Excuse me, I saw you on the cars and it seems 
 almost as though" — 
 
 Riel smiled and finished the sentence. 
 
 "Almost as though I were an old friend." 
 
 "I ought not to say it I suppose." 
 
 "Yes, dear lady, you ought to say what's in 
 your heart," replied Riel holding out his hand. 
 
 Annette glanced at her uncle. 
 
 "Don't be afraid to clasp hands," said Riel. 
 "Mine may have a few red spots on them, but not 
 willingly, the great spirit is my witness. I hate 
 war as badly as you do, but my people have call- 
 ed me. They have cried aloud to me. I have ears 
 and I hear what they say. I have a heart and I 
 feel their sorrows. I have hands and when they 
 bid me help I cannot push them away. They are 
 poor and wild and untaught. Their enemies are 
 rich and strong and learned. They have none but 
 me that dares to help. I know the way. I know 
 it's not all brightness. There's night in it and 
 ignominy and perhaps martyrdom and death. I 
 have trod it before and I'm not deceived. I must 
 go through it again step by step. It's an allegi- 
 ance of blood, my young friend. It's like the tie 
 that binds me to my old mother who loved me and 
 nursed me with tenderest care. The great North- 
 west is my mother. She is calling me now. I love 
 144 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 her and she loves me. I can't help but do as she 
 bids. She cried out for justice and I petitioned 
 the heads of Government to do justice; but they 
 turned deaf ears. I petitioned their Lord to show 
 them the ways of love and right and they shut 
 their eyes and ran at me like mad dogs. When 
 you saw me, my dear young lady, I was on the 
 way to St. Laurent to celebrate the Feast of St. 
 Joseph, not dreaming of earthly battles, but the 
 Government was gnashing it's teeth at us then. 
 It sent five hundred police to disperse our poor 
 people as they went in the sacred gates and im- 
 prisoned their supposed leaders." 
 
 "What did the Government say to them? It 
 said they were not wanted. Not wanted on the 
 land that was theirs! Not wanted in the homes of 
 their fathers ! Not" wanted in the burial places of 
 their ancestors ! Not wanted in the birth places of 
 their children ! That their wives with their little 
 ones must be driven forth to starve and die in the 
 great wilderness or sit down crying and shelter- 
 less on the wild prairies. This was more than hu- 
 man beings could bear. The white blood in their 
 veins boiled with indignation. The red blood rose 
 in revenge. White haired parents and young 
 mothers with babes on their backs or in their arms, 
 came forth from their houses to cheer us on. 
 Crimes were committed as they ever must be when 
 wild blood is up. Alas ! my poor people ! TTiey 
 are not wise. Happy and peaceful were they on 
 the shores of the Saskatchewan until the vile off- 
 10 145 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 shoots of civilization came and destroyed it all. 
 Misunderstand me not, my dear young lady, I 
 hate not civilization nor its white exponent. Jesu 
 Marie forbid. I had a friend once. His face was 
 white. His soul was shining white. I loved Kim. 
 School-mates, and class-mates were we. Always 
 together at sports, at meals and at prayers. Like 
 cool dew was he to my hot spirit. Like sheltering 
 wings was his tender care. Like the Christ love 
 was his unselfish love — the love that wins the 
 world — that fights bloodless battles. Jesu Marie, 
 had he lived to help me I might have attained the 
 ideal. The power to win all through love. So 
 lived or died or spoken as to have won justice for 
 my people without bloodshed! Yes, I repeat it, I 
 hate war and violence of all kinds as badly as you 
 do, my dear young friend. If only I could make 
 some sacrifice to avert it ; If only his spirit could 
 tell me what to do !" 
 
 Louis Riel paused, caught his breath, then con- 
 tinued in a changed other-world tone. 
 
 "Louis, dear Louis, I am going, going, goo3 
 bye. Ah, that was his last message ! Going, go- 
 ing. Twenty years his soul hais been going, go- 
 ing ! He is far away now. My dust-trodden spir- 
 it cannot reach his. It must go on blindly. Look- 
 ing for a sign and praying that a ray from thV 
 far off infinite soul may pierce the darkness at 
 last." 
 
 "Know you, my dear young lady, that I am not 
 a model warrior — an English thick-skin that 
 
 146 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 plunges on through cloud and sunshine. I am a 
 sun-worshiper almost. The sun seems to me a 
 part of the ineffable spirit. I can do no good 
 thing if it lies under a cloud. Such is my weak- 
 ness or strength. My ignorance or wisdom. Re- 
 member what I say. If the day should be sunless 
 on which I am called to battle I shall take it as a 
 sign. I shall give myself up to the executioner ; 
 but be sure it will not be in vain. It is as bad to 
 die in vain as to live in vain. By the grace of 
 God I shall do neither. I rest assured that the 
 complaints of my poor people will be regarded 
 with more attention on my account. I trust that 
 neither they nor my wife and children will be 
 made to suffer for me. I came to suffer for them. 
 I have already suffered banishment. When I 
 returned from exile I went for their sakes to the 
 den of my great enemy — the House of Commons. 
 Every eye in it was like a dagger. Every tongue 
 was like an adder's. I sat like a Lazarus in their 
 midst. I was there in vain. I turned away and 
 went back sorrowing to my people. Sorrow on sor- 
 row came and made a thick, black cloud. Jesu 
 Marie! The cloud lowers ! Pray for us, my dear 
 young friend — for peace, justice and reconcilia- 
 tion in place of war and oppression." 
 
 Annette was well nigh dumb with grief and 
 wonder. She could do no more than exclaim : 
 
 "O! if it could be! Uncle, dear Uncle, can't 
 you go to the Government again and tell them just 
 
 147 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 how it is? I would go with you and help you if 
 I could?" 
 
 "No chicken, I let myself all out when I was 
 there, and if they don't do just as I say, I shan't 
 consider it my business to fight 'em. T'wouldn't 
 be none of your savages that would choose me for 
 a leader, Mr. Riel, blast their old copper plates. 
 It's nothing but blood and thunder and hoss- 
 thieving with nine-tenths of 'em. Of course they've 
 got their grievances, but generally speaking they 
 wouldn't know a grievance from a hornets-nest 
 if they should see one. But that isn't the kink 
 between you and I. It's what you're going to do 
 with us now you've got us here. Let's have the 
 crow without mince-meat or prayers. I'm pesky 
 tired — could sleep in chains or under a cannon's 
 nozzle and as to my niece I reckon she's better'n 
 first cousin to your angel friend, and is entitled to 
 the best you've got. I've heard that story be- 
 fore and I happen to know that the young man 
 that died in your arms was Annette's uncle on the 
 quaker side of the house, but I rather reckon she 
 has never heard of it." 
 
 "O ! yes I have," exclaimed Annette. " At least 
 I heard of some one's treating him like a mother 
 — an angel. O! you must let me thank you for 
 my own mother's sake ! Thank you ! thank you, 
 with all my heart !" 
 
 "His very look," murmured Riel, as he turned 
 away to hide a tear and going to the rude stair- 
 case called to some one in French. A young girl 
 148 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 came tripping down. The same one Annette had 
 seen on the cars. She held out her hand and the 
 girl took it gently between her own and led her to 
 the upper chamber. 
 
 149 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE MORNING AFTER THE CAPTURE. 
 
 / / f ■ ^HE aggressive Englishman appears 
 Kg *# ffl omnipresent, but he is not having it 
 
 T 
 
 H all his own way," said Riel to Mau- 
 
 ry the morning after the capture. 
 "Attempts are being made by native tribes at var- 
 ious points to stay his progress. The Boers have 
 seized a British surveying party recently sent out 
 to Beechvanaland. It is curious to note the sim- 
 ilarity of the difficulties which block the way both 
 north and south. Providences they might be call- 
 ed. While a company of the 'Queen's Own,' was 
 pushing its way over the frozen lakes of our bleak 
 Northwest, news came from the opposite end of 
 the globe, that the British troops were delayed 
 from advancing into the Soudan by the scarcity 
 of camels and that Osman Digna's famous chief 
 Taggish was killed in a murderous military scuffle« 
 which otherwise turned out badly for the Eng- 
 lish." 
 
 150 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Then there are Generals Graham and McNiel. 
 They're in almost as bad odor for their mistakes 
 in the eastern fight as Governor Dewdney is for 
 his blindness in the Northwest. The Arabs as well 
 as the Indians are having a new inspiration which 
 to my seeing deserves the name of divine courage. 
 As Earl Granville and Lord Dufferin concluded 
 that there must be better grounds for Russia's 
 boldness than England's troubles in the Soudan, 
 so might Sir John McDonald conclude that our 
 so-called rebellion had other excuse than Fenian 
 or dynamitic disturbances. If the order to search 
 the Saskatchewan had been as peremptory as the 
 order to search Constantinople, some better cause 
 might have been discovered than the innate cus- 
 sedness of the Indian nature. Only the other day 
 two men came. Neither had an English name any 
 more than you have, Colonel Maury. They came 
 to fight us. They looked at us with their own eyes. 
 They saw us as we are — hunted men asking for 
 our own. They shook hands with us and went 
 home." 
 
 "Blast me," said Maury, " if they'd taken a 
 squint at Big Bear, Poundmaker and Yellow-Mud- 
 Blanket, or some of those daisies, they'd thought 
 the hunting was on the other side. Or if they'd 
 happened 'round at the lake after the massacre 
 and viewed the remains — bodies cut up and strung 
 around the woods. Hearts cut out and stuck 
 on pickets. Just the rumpus at our garrison 
 
 151 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 might have turned their heads. The crying of the 
 children, the terror of the women who expected 
 every moment that the place would be raided by 
 the devilish crew and themselves dragged off as 
 tender morsels to be devoured at leisure." 
 
 "A panic, simply, Colonel Maury. Fear based 
 on exaggerated reports. I don't believe that the 
 worst Indian Chiefs we have are going to harm the 
 women and children. I can't say as to the In- 
 spectors and the Police. Some of them have made 
 themselves very obnoxious, exceeding the Govern- 
 ment authority. What would you do, my dear 
 sir, if you were forbidden to cut wood to keep 
 your wife and little ones from freezing, off from 
 the land which you had occupied and toiled on for 
 years ?" 
 
 "Get the wood and build the fires and then see 
 what the row was about. If my patent wasn't 
 all right I'd have it made right deuced quick, blast 
 me," said Maury. "I'd bust the red tape business 
 without a qualm, in such a case." 
 
 "Some of the Inspectors wouldn't give you a 
 chance," said Riel. "They'd bring the police 
 while you were getting the wood and you'd be tied 
 up while your family was perishing with cold- Its 
 no fancy sketch, my dear sir. Many such cases 
 have occurred and you may be sure that the In- 
 spectors are marked men. Marked by the Indians 
 with a blacker mark than by the half breeds ; for 
 Indians, ignorant though they are of civilized 
 152 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 ways, understand the wilderness code of honor; 
 and more than that they have seen with their own 
 eyes." 
 
 "What has the big chief seen? Listen. He was 
 sitting in his hunting lodge one day. It was too 
 cold to go out. The air cut the stoutest flesh like 
 a sharp sword. All at once he heard a sound in 
 the still forest. He thought it might be a noble 
 buck plunging through the icy snow. He muffled 
 himself up to the eyes and went forth to meet the 
 sound. It was no buck he saw ! but a poorly clad 
 man — almost a pale face. He was swinging his 
 ax to and fro. He was cutting wood. The pa- 
 tient horse stood by ready to receive the load. His 
 dumb dog looked pitifully into his face. The 
 breath came from his mouth and nostrils like 
 thick smoke. Faster and faster fell the ax on the 
 frozen trees. Thicker and thicker came the smoke- 
 like breath. The muscles reddened and writhed 
 like serpents. The big chief watched him with 
 scorn first, then with wonder and admiration. He 
 saw that he was a brave man and it dawned upon 
 him at last that he was gathering wood to take 
 home to his sick white squaw. Then there came 
 another sound. Two horses fiery and fat — two 
 riders armed and well clad. What could they want 
 of the ragged panting man and his poor horse 
 and dog and his little load of wood? They took 
 them all !" 
 
 "The big Indian Chief was dumfounded; but 
 
 153 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 he found out all about it in time you may be sure, 
 and he would never forget the two well fed, well 
 clad riders. He has his mark upon them and as 
 I said before, I don't know what he would do to 
 them if they should come prowling around his res- 
 ervation ; but as to debauching women, faugh ! 
 It's not the style of our northern Indians ! nor do I 
 think the prisoners on whom they have no mark, 
 would be treated badly." 
 
 "As to the massacre, it may turn out to be no 
 massacre at all, as others have done. Almost ev- 
 ery day has brought reports of terrible outrages 
 - — sensational affairs, dressed up in the old barbar- 
 ous, Indian war style ; but the truth is, the Indians 
 are behaving remarkably well. Most of the tribes 
 are staying quietly at home." 
 
 "It's a bad box for you, even with that screw in 
 it," said Maury bluntly. "If the Injuns stay peace- 
 ably at home, your people can't hope to win the 
 battle — there are too few of them; and if the In- 
 juns go on the war-path, it will be too horrible. 
 You remember the border wars. They haven't for- 
 got their scalping and butchery in so short a time. 
 A bad backing for you, Mr. Riel, — these wily Indi- 
 ans. You, whom I take to be an honest, tender 
 hearted man." 
 
 "You forget that war is butchery at the best. 
 Heaven knows, I am trying to avert it — holding 
 back, hoping to treat with the Government." 
 
 "Be advised," said Maury. "The Government 
 154 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 will never treat with you. You wouldn't be safe 
 anywhere in reach of a real Britisher's gun. What 
 could you do with this boiled down, concentrated, 
 bull-dog of a Government? You ought to hear 
 some of those broad- jawed fellows snarl once, as 
 I have." 
 
 "Do as the Shieks did between Suakim and Ber- 
 ber — demand a guaranty of British protection be- 
 fore making terms. I may be refused as they were 
 — may be treated as though I were not a human 
 being ; but there's nothing like asking for what 
 you think right." 
 
 "Justice at the cannon's mouth. Trial at the 
 drum's head. That's all they have for you. Ev- 
 en the Indians will turn on you when the pinch 
 comes. They'll lay all their deviltries on your 
 shoulders. To give up at once and go back to the 
 States is your only way out. Go, I beg of you, 
 you are too good a man for such a horrible sac- 
 rifice. Go home with my niece, Mr. Riel." 
 
 "O do come ! you and the young lady," exclaim- 
 ed Annette. "Give me a chance to repay you for 
 your kindness to my dear mother's brother. I am 
 all alone in my house. You could easily pass for my 
 kin-folks until the trouble is over. Then you could 
 send for your family. Perhaps you would be able 
 to benefit your friends more if you were at a safe 
 distance from your enemies. The way might op- 
 en unexpectedly. ! I feel as though there must 
 be a way out of this difficulty! — a peaceful way 
 and a just way!" 
 
 155 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "You see it's the impractical Quaker anti-mili- 
 tarist sentiment cropping out," said Captain Mau- 
 ry, apologetically. "What I have to say is that 
 you needn't hope to settle your hash with the Eng- 
 lish Government ; but you can get out from under 
 its heel." 
 
 Annette looked at her uncle sadly — almost re- 
 proachfully, then turned again to Kiel. His smile 
 was tender and sympathetic. It encouraged her 
 to say : 
 
 "It does not seem possible that any civilized 
 government could be so hard and unjust, but ev- 
 en if it should prove to be so, Mr. Riel, I can't 
 think you ought to go to war. I don't believe any 
 one ought to fight as long as he has a tongue in 
 his head and can talk — least of all, you who have a 
 tongue of eloquence — a tongue of flame ! O ! I 
 know you could talk and write too in a way to 
 sway hard hearts ! I feel sure that if you would 
 only give your whole heart and mind and voice 
 to it, you could so represent the poverty and woes 
 of your people as to bring conviction to your 
 worst enemies. I would help you. I almost know 
 I could. I would try hard at any rate. I have 
 nothing to do in life. Work would be a God- 
 send to me; and such work! Work for Peace! 
 For the saving of human life ! The spirit of my 
 dear mother, whom you have not seen, and the 
 spirit of my dear uncle, whom you have seen, would 
 be with us to cheer us on. Come Louis, come !" 
 156 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "His very words — almost," whispered Riel 
 hoarsely — then relapsed into stolid silence. She 
 went close to him and put her hand on his shoulder- 
 It was an unconscious act but it was a plain-speak- 
 ing one at least to her Uncle Jacques Maury. He 
 had been a little anxious about her love affair all 
 the way through, but he felt that she was safe at 
 heart now. That her love for "the one man," which 
 she had been brooding over in secret, was being 
 transmuted into the larger love — the love for all 
 men — love for the whole world ! Life was coming 
 back with a new purpose and new energy. The 
 time was coming, swiftly coming when she would 
 no longer wish to die — only die ! She was making 
 a good beginning he thought, by weaving her 
 spell around this deluded man ; for he really seem- 
 ed to be spell-bound as he stood there like a statue 
 with her white hand on his shoulder, looking into 
 her misty eyes. He felt more than ever anxious 
 that Riel should go home with her but he hardly 
 knew how to express his desire in a way to com- 
 pass the object. 
 
 "Go! Riel go!" he said, bluntly, at last. "She 
 has a chronic horror of war and bloodshed — 
 born in her I reckon. Don't know but it would be 
 better if we all had more of it. Reckon the hor- 
 ror of it will have to become chronic and wide- 
 spread before it can do much at driving out the 
 fighting beast in us. Take my word for it, my 
 niece will help you if anybody can. She won't 
 
 157 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 let anybody hurt you anyhow. She can't bear to 
 see even a thieving Indian shot at. Our soldiers 
 up at the Fort wounded one, on the run, while 
 she was there, for stealing their rations, and she 
 wanted to go and bring him in and nurse him up 
 — the lousy, lazy creature! Poor little chicken! 
 She isn't used to Injuns and (begging your par- 
 don) they are not on their best behavior now. 
 They would have scared her to death before this 
 little rumpus is over. I hope you know that I 
 wouldn't have left the old Fort a solitary second 
 if it hadn't been for her, and if it hadn't been for 
 you I would have been back there before this time. 
 I was going to make short work of it. My plan 
 was to take her to the Border Train and give her 
 in charge of a conductor that I am well acquaint- 
 ed with — a good, reliable fellow, who would have 
 seen that she got home safe and sound ; but blast 
 me, I forget that I'm a prisoner, talking to a 
 captor. There's no call for explanatory notes." 
 
 The spell was broken. The white dove of 
 "Peace" flew away and the red scorpion of War, 
 under guise of "Faithful" came back to lash its 
 victim afresh. Riel turned to Colonel Maury and 
 waved his hand. 
 
 "Let that pass," he said, in a voice that smote 
 Annette's hopeful heart like a thorn. "But de- 
 sert my people? never! I remember One that died 
 for those that rejected, insulted and crucified Him. 
 The Metis are my beloved. I have striven to lead 
 them in the way of Light as it is shown to me, 
 158 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 without fear and trembling. Thus far I have 
 led them, although it has taken them from the Es- 
 tablished Church. I must go on, although it leads 
 me through deep waters to the feast of bitter herbs 
 and to ignominious death." 
 
 "There it is again," said Maury, angrily. "If 
 you had only stood by the church! Now you'll 
 have all the Romanists down on you. Blast you, 
 it vexes me to see any man marching himself as 
 straight to the shambles as you are ; but it's none 
 of my bread and cheese. All I have to ask of you 
 now is to furnish me and my niece safe escort out 
 of this d— nd disagreeable trap. I calculate you'll 
 do your best by us after all your softness to your 
 worst enemies." 
 
 After due deliberation, the plan finally agreed 
 upon was that Zadkiel should escort Annette home, 
 with the privilege of returning to camp or not as 
 he wished; and that her uncle after seeing them 
 safely across the border, should be at liberty to go 
 wherever he chose. 
 
 "You needn't ever expect tu see me in camp 
 again," Zadkiel blurted out. "Tu be honest In- 
 jun with yu, Mr. Riel, I may as well tell yu right 
 here that I heden't any great idear of fighting 
 when I came up to this great Lonesome Land and 
 I hev a still smaller idear of it now. I've made up 
 my mind that I'd ruther be shot as a desarter at 
 once, than tu spend my life shooting other folks. 
 I hain't got any stomach fer that kind of business. 
 Human flesh is too expensive a thing tu hev it 
 
 159 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 slashed intu and hashed up after the fashion of 
 war. It takes a mother too long tu carry her son 
 through the measles and mumps and small-pox, 
 to hev him riddled tu pieces at larst by a whole 
 regiment of sharp-shooters, according tu my way 
 of thinking, and I rather guess that the mothers 
 would say so tu, if they were consulted about it. 
 At least that's the impression I got while I was 
 setting by my dead mother's grave on the banks 
 of the Saskatchewan only a month ago, and I've 
 ben fairly aching tu git owt of this accurst war- 
 pen ever sense I was marched intu it — and tu tell 
 the truth I was marched intu it right straight 
 from her grave by one of your officers, Medicine 
 Hat Bill; but I don't lay it up against yu and 
 if you'll come hum with us I'll du all I can tu pre- 
 vent your being capterd, that is, all I can except 
 tu kill the onfortunit critter that undertakes the 
 job." 
 
 Riel shook his head in smiling silence and bade 
 all of them a kindly good bye. Surely nothing 
 could have been more magnanimous. Colonel 
 Jacques Maury was treated as an honored guest ; 
 but it was easy to be seen that it was for Annette's 
 sake — the Apostle of Peace — the fitting represen- 
 tative of the gentler class of humanity, which if 
 released from bonds, the wide world over would 
 soon win it from cruel war, savagery and hate. 
 
 160 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 mrs. duiveland's boakding-house for men only. 
 
 MRS. Duiveland's boarding house "for 
 men only," was a large double house 
 with an imposing brown stone front. 
 It had elegant double doors of solid 
 black walnut and a shining silver plate, with Duive- 
 land artistically inscribed thereon. Leading up 
 to it from the substantial flag-stone walk was a 
 flight of broad, brown stone steps, with brown 
 stone alligators on either side. The windows were 
 of the best French plate glass. The inner blinds 
 were of real oak and evidently used for the pur- 
 pose for which window blinds were originally in- 
 vented ; for from basement to attic, no glimpse of 
 a window shade or curtain, either of lace or da- 
 mask was to be seen. No ! nor a basket of vines, 
 nor a vase of flowers nor a wreath, nor a bird 
 cage, nor a transparency, nor a pussy-cat, nor any 
 other thing that betokened the feminine presence. 
 Just stand across the street and give it a good 
 looking over (with spectacles across your nose if 
 you are near-sighted) and you will say "Ah, it 
 
 11 161 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 is as unlike a woman's boarding house or those 
 mixed concerns where men and women and chil- 
 dren are allowed to enter indiscriminately, as the 
 masculine is unlike the feminine dress." 
 
 At least, this is what Mr. Jerold Worthington 
 said to himself one fine morning when he was 
 searching for a new home ; and added, "I believe I 
 shall like it all the better on that account." 
 
 Not that Jerold hated feminine things or traits. 
 You would have known better than that after a 
 glance at his genial face. You might go so far 
 as to wonder at the absence of a certain look that 
 is supposed to be the proper accompaniment of 
 extra wide mourning weeds. Jerold loved flowers 
 and had no objection to house-plants if they did 
 not monopolize the light and sunshine of the sit- 
 ting room windows. He liked graceful draperies, 
 if they did not trail on the floor to such an ex- 
 tent that he was in danger of having his feet en- 
 tangled in them. He had no chronic objection 
 to the form of drapery called a lambrequin, if it 
 were only hung high enough to enable him to en- 
 ter the door without a nervous feeling that a pro- 
 cession of caterpillars were crawling over his close- 
 ly cropped crown. 
 
 To tell the truth about Jerold, he was very 
 tall and very near-sighted and had married when 
 very young, his cousin Flora, who was very short 
 in stature and not at all short of sight ; and who 
 always insisted on arranging things after her own 
 measurement and agreeably to her own vision. 
 162 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Always ! Yes, and that was what seemed so 
 strange about it. If she had begun by arranging 
 things in a way that proved inconvenient to her 
 husband and had learned after several educative 
 disasters to give more roominess to her plans, noth- 
 ing serious would have occurred. Even the crack- 
 ed Sevres vase, instead of being set up as a warn- 
 ing to a blundering husband, would have been 
 kept as a memorial of the exceeding greenness of 
 the honeymoon period, when husbands are expect- 
 ed to flit about in rose-decked bowers as easily as 
 an intangible seraph or a winged butterfly. 
 
 Poor Flora ! she was one of those creatures who 
 are brought up with a design — that is, she had 
 been designed for Jerold from the earliest bud and 
 had been developed with great care. Jerold was 
 only a year old at the time of her birth and had 
 not as yet expressed himself as to what form of a 
 wife he would like to have ; but it is not commonly 
 supposed that any decent man could possibly ob- 
 ject to having one which would compare favor- 
 ably with a flower ; so his prospective wife was not 
 only named Flora, but she was brought up to think 
 that she was a sort of transmigrated flower and 
 that her chief business in life would be to line her 
 husband's pathway with flowers. How then could 
 she be expected to leave it off"? 
 
 "Depend upon it, men like flowers and grace- 
 ful furnishings, even when they do not seem to 
 like them." was a nineteenth century adage which 
 had often been hammered into her ears. How 
 163 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 then could she be expected to know there were ex- 
 ceptions to the rule and worse still that she would 
 find an exception in that one man, for whom she 
 had been especially shaped? She belonged to an 
 old Canadian family, but aside from the pre-natal 
 affiancing to one of her own blood, she was quite 
 on a level with her sisters across the border, par- 
 ticularly the delicately reared kind, who are no 
 more encouraged to go wandering about to find 
 suitable mates than a flower on its stem. Every 
 father's daughter of them all must wait for chance 
 breezes to bring them husbands, or for that busy 
 bee of society, the match-maker, whose brain is 
 as heavily weighted with matrimonial schemes as 
 the honey bees' legs are with golden pollen- 
 Considering all things, the wonder of the age 
 is, that so many manage to escape the effects of 
 bad matrimonial training. Mrs. Jerold Worth- 
 ington, however, was not of the number. Whether 
 lack of intelligence was at the bottom of it, is not 
 apparent. It is true, however, that she no more 
 thought of elevating a lambrequin to suit her 
 husband's physical stature than- she did of ele- 
 vating her mind to suit his mental stature. She 
 never thought of removing the vases of flowers 
 and the "flummerdiddles," from the library table 
 that he might have room for his sizable paper and 
 inkstand ; and yet she would have thought him a 
 veritable monkey if he had squatted himself down 
 on a foot-cushion, with an inkbottle in one hand, 
 134 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 a pen in the other and a port-folio on his knees, 
 as she did when she wanted to indite a note. 
 
 These were trfles of course, not worthy of a 
 strong man's indignation and that Jerold inclined 
 to bear them patiently is evidenced by the fact 
 that after a whole year's experience, he could 
 take the trouble to argue the matter, all alone by 
 himself and excuse his wife's methods on the prin- 
 ciple that those who are debarred from doing 
 anything useful outside of the house, must of ne- 
 cessity do a large amount of useless fussing in- 
 side of it. 
 
 The thing that seemed truly deplorable to him 
 was that trifles could be so accumulated and pro- 
 jected into a man's home life as to put the man 
 quite out of it, or into a cypress tree shade. 
 
 The reader may smile at the idea of a great, 
 strong man being made nervous or miserable 
 by the mere trickery of over-decorated rooms. 
 Husbands and brothers have so many ways of 
 freeing themselves from oppressive or awkward 
 home conditions. If everything else fails they 
 can join the "Sunshine Society" or the "Owl Club." 
 That Jerold had a vague idea of joining some 
 kind of a club where he could go and unbend him- 
 self without knocking down a wreath of immor- 
 telles or upsetting a vase of gloria roses, cannot 
 be denied; but before he had taken this decisive 
 step his wife faded away and died like the persis- 
 tent little flower she was, and the "Duiveland 
 
 165 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 boarding house "for men only," offered him a list 
 of advantages that promised to do away entirely 
 with the necessity for keeping up an establish- 
 ment of his own. 
 
 166 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE TB.OUBLESOME VALENTINES. 
 
 / / ^""W DEAR ! dear Rache ! it's the valen- 
 M B tines that have made all the 
 B^ W trouble — yours or mine, I don't 
 ~w-^f know which. O dear ! what will we 
 do and what if poor, dear Annette has killed her- 
 self, already?" 
 
 lone cried and wrung her hands in utter de- 
 spair. 
 
 "Be quiet, Onie. Tell me all about it or how 
 can I know what is best to be done. It can't be 
 possible that anything dreadful has happened 
 from such a simple thing." 
 
 "0, I'm glad to hear you say so, Rache ; for 
 I'm frightened out of my wits. You know I went 
 to her house again to-day, determined to see Mrs. 
 Hannagan and find out where Annette had gone. 
 
 'Mrs. Hannagan doesn't stop here much of the 
 time since Miss Maury's gone west,' said the boy 
 who answered the bell." 
 
 "But I must see her and you must tell me where 
 she is — you know of course. He was very loth to 
 
 167 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 admit it, but I persisted and he finally said he was 
 'her boy' and if I'd 'wait a minute 'till he got 
 locked up he'd go with me.' " 
 
 "While I was waiting Miss Dean came along. 
 She told me that Miss Maury's absence was get- 
 ting to be a very serious matter. That nobody 
 knew anything except that her engagement to Os- 
 borne had been broken off. That all of her busi- 
 ness had been left in his hands and that her 
 friends were growing to be very suspicious of him 
 and declared if she were not heard from very soon, 
 a regular search would be made — and that Os- 
 borne acted queer — avoided all his old friends and 
 looked like a ghost." 
 
 "After all this," continued lone, "you may be 
 sure I went for Mrs. Hannagan with a will. She 
 insisted that she knew nothing of Miss Maury 
 but what she had already told — 'nothing at all 
 except wan trifle of a thing, which was too foolish 
 to tell; but she allowed that if everything was to 
 come out before the courts she might as well make 
 a clean brist of it. A fellow over in Maybrook, 
 she didn't know his consates name, received a val- 
 entine which he charged to Miss Maury, and that 
 made a quarrel between her and Mr. Osborne, 
 which broke their engagement." 
 
 "O, dear ! dear ! what a wretched blunder ! What 
 shall we do, Raohie? What can we do?" 
 
 "We must go straight to Maybrook and make 
 our confessions," replied Rachael, authoritatively. 
 "That's the first step." 
 
 168 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Mercy, mercy! What will they think of us, 
 Rache?" 
 
 "Never mind that, Onie, we will take Aunt Ju- 
 dith with us. Saff shall get out the old family 
 carriage and we'll appear respectable at least. 
 You'll not be afraid of the river now." 
 
 In less than an hour Aunt Judith had been tak- 
 en into their confidence and the Grayson carriage, 
 familiarly known as "Noah's Ark," with her and 
 her contrite nieces, was on its way to Maybrook. 
 
 Rachael, as was her habit in the face of an im- 
 portant task, was so absorbed in mental plannings 
 as to pay but little heed to outside matters. lone, 
 on the contrary was acutely observant, looking at 
 every object, listening to every sound, straining 
 her eyes and ears to the utmost as though there 
 must be something or somebody, somewhere, that 
 could answer or help to answer the question which 
 she was repeating over and over again in her own 
 mind, "O where in the wide world is dear Annette 
 Maury?" 
 
 When they arrived at Maybrook, the North 
 Western train stood puffing and shrieking at the 
 station. An ordinary performance, truly, but it 
 struck upon Ione's high-strung nerves with a 
 force that made her look eagerly in that direc- 
 tion. The next moment she was shouting wildly 
 from the carriage window. 
 
 "Stop Saff! Stop for heaven's sake! I have seen 
 Annette or her ghost!" 
 
 She leaped from the carriage and flew to the 
 
 169 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 station like a winged creature. It was Annette 
 herself. 
 
 "Sick, but alive, thank the Lord," cried lone! 
 "Cheer up! I can explain it all! I did it! I 
 wrote that horrid valentine." 
 
 "You? you wrote a valentine to Dr. Franklin 
 Brownlow? The one he laid to me?" 
 
 "Yes, I did. There Rachie," said lone, drag- 
 ging Annette into the carriage, "I said it was 
 mine that did all the mischief; but I didn't mean 
 it." 
 
 "O ! dear, dear! poor, dear Annette." "She did 
 it just for fun," explained Rachael. "I wrote one 
 to Jerold Worthington at the same time. You 
 know they were the two young men you mentioned 
 in your letter. We were just going to call on them 
 and explain, with Aunt Judith to back us. But 
 what in the world were you going to do?" 
 
 "O ! dear, dear! I was going first to return this." 
 cried Annette, handing her Brownlow's crumpled 
 note, then see Clem if I could without his seeing 
 me — and then — O, I don't know what I should 
 have done. I have had such a terrible pain in my 
 head for weeks and weeks ! O, it seems such a re- 
 lief to cry ! I have been trying not to, so long !" 
 And sitting between the two cousins, poor An- 
 nette leaned her aching head first on one shoulder 
 and then the other and sobbed until the cruel pain 
 was all gone. 
 
 "Well, my dears, it is a blessing to have a good 
 old fashioned, modest, covered carriage sometimes. 
 170 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 I always thought so, but I never dreamed it would 
 be so priceless as it's been this day," remarked Aunt 
 Judith, wiping her old eyes with a large handker- 
 chief of spotless linen and making a spasmodic 
 effort to lower the tattered curtain of Noah's 
 Ark; "but I wonder what's got hold of Safford? 
 I never knew him to be so resigned to stops." 
 
 She put her head out of the window to give 
 orders. She drew it back quickly, adjusted her 
 spectacles, then thrust it out again. 
 
 "Lord of love!" she exclaimed, "there's some- 
 body or other waving at us that looks for all the 
 world, exactly like dear, old, honest Zadkiel Re- 
 naud!" 
 
 "Probably it is," said Annette. "He brought 
 me home and was looking after the luggage. Louis 
 Riel sent him. Yes, Louis Riel, the rebel ; but it's 
 no matter what they call him. He is true to the 
 core — true to the poor, the sick and suffering — 
 true to his neglected and wretched people — the 
 light of hope in that desolate region, made a hor- 
 ror of desolation by horrible war! If England 
 could only see him as he is and come to him with 
 loving help, instead of shot and shell, what a bles- 
 sing he might be to his race and to the world !" 
 
 171 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A LANDLADY WHO GOES TO MARKET IN A 
 CARRIAGE. 
 
 IN the front part of the Duiveland boarding 
 house was a large reading room with com- 
 fortable chairs, placed just where needed. In 
 the rear was an admirably arranged room 
 for whist. On the top story was one of the finest 
 billiard rooms in the city. But the most agreeable 
 and remarkable of all its possessions, especially 
 to certain sour bachelors, was a landlady, who was 
 rarely visible to her boarders ; who was educating 
 a daughter which none of them had ever seen, and 
 who took a carriage like a lady when she went to 
 market. 
 
 For these and other reasons equally astonish- 
 ing, Mrs. Duiveland soon came to be regarded as 
 a queen by her boarders ; and one of the right 
 stamp ; for nothing is more grateful to the heart 
 of the average man than to feel that it is worth 
 while for a very superior woman to see that he is 
 excellently fed and housed. 
 
 172 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Jerold, without any design on his own part, 
 was more fortunate in securing an audience with 
 his hostess than many another had been. It was 
 due, no doubt, to the habit of deference to the 
 home-makers, so called. He sent word that he 
 would like to consult her about the hanging of a 
 bas relief which he feared would make an ugly 
 mark on the immaculate wall. She came with her 
 confidential waiting man to take orders. She 
 called him Rush. 
 
 "I never object to having anything really orna- 
 mental on the walls. A fine picture or work of 
 art is more pleasing than bare walls even though 
 they are newly tinted," said Mrs. Diuveland, with 
 as much dignity as though she were accustomed to 
 being deferred to in regard to such matters much 
 oftener than she really was; "but the wall ought 
 to be proud of this," she added. "It is really a 
 chef d'auvre." 
 
 "Yes it is a rare thing. I like to have it in 
 good light. I bought it on my wedding trip in 
 Rome." 
 
 "Ah!" she said, softly, then looked at it in si- 
 lence while Rush was putting the hook in the prop- 
 er place. Jerold looked at her while she was look- 
 ing at the bas-relief. He saw a well developed 
 figure, rather above the medium size, a long, shape- 
 ly hand, a classic forehead with blue-black waves 
 of hair rippling across it, a decidedly fine profile 
 and eyes of purplish black. 
 
 "I dislike meretricious ornament," she said, 
 173 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 turning to the elegant bookcases. "Your library 
 makes a royal furnishing of itself. You must be 
 fond of literature to have laid in such a goodly 
 store." 
 
 "Yes, I am rather," said Jerold, pleased to find 
 a lady so frankly appreciative. In his own house, 
 not only his book-cases but the head of Schiller 
 had been doomed to the dark end of the hall, 
 where the light fell on them at an angle equally 
 disastrous to use and beauty. 
 
 "I think it fortunate when young men have that 
 taste or young women either," said Mrs. Duive- 
 land. "I have a young daughter that's very fond 
 of reading — poetry, especially. She would prefer 
 a set of books to a set of jewels any day. I sent 
 her Tennyson's complete works last Christmas. 
 Some think it's odd for such a young girl, Mr. 
 Worthington, but I know enough of the world to 
 think it a good sign. My daughter was too mis- 
 chievous to live until she developed that taste." 
 
 Jerold made no reply, but he began to wonder 
 if there were anything about a gentlemen's board- 
 ing house which was calculated to inspire its keep- 
 er with wisdom and common sense. 
 
 "Rush will await your orders and negotiate 
 for anything you may need," said Mrs. Duiveland, 
 as she left the room. 
 
 174 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 I0NE MAKES A CONFESSION. 
 
 WHEN Dr. Brownlow went down to 
 the street door in obedience to 
 Zadkiel's summons and saw 
 "Noah's Ark" standing there, he 
 expected to find an aged, bed-ridden dame within, 
 vainly seeking for a bottle of Life's Elixir. Great 
 was his surprise when the fair young face of lone 
 Grayson appeared at the quaint window. Indeed 
 nothing was wanting to his charmed, infatuated 
 vision but the scriptural dove and olive branch to 
 make the picture complete. He stood quite still 
 for a moment, then he moved forward a little 
 bowing and smiling delightfully; but poor lone 
 could not wait for formalities- She beckoned him 
 to come near. She put her head out of the win- 
 dow as far as she could and he came up as near as 
 he could conveniently. 
 
 "I'm lone Grayson, Jeremiah Grayson's grand- 
 daughter, from Grayson farm, and I have a con- 
 fession to make," she said trembling, "but I don't 
 want the whole street to hear." 
 
 175 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 He put his hands on the window sill each side 
 of her with a protective motion. He turned his 
 eyes away and his ear so near that it almost 
 touched her lips — Then she made her confession 
 quite easily and bravely — adding with a penitent 
 tear — "you see it was a very foolish thing to do 
 and — I alone am to blame." 
 
 "Not at all," said the doctor, cheerily. "You 
 did it beautifully and I'm so happy to " 
 
 "No ! no !" cried lone, "don't say that ! you 
 could not if you only knew how much misery it 
 has caused. It has nearly killed Miss M'aury and 
 Mr. Osborne, too, I fear." 
 
 "But the poor young things didn't mean any 
 harm, Doctor Brownlow," said Aunt Judith, rais- 
 ing her face to the window by the side of lone's. 
 "They are well intentioned, my nieces are ; but I 
 suppose it gets rather too lonesome for them, out 
 in the country in snowy times. I'm to blame part- 
 ly. If I'd thought about it, as I ought, I could 
 have told them of plenty of things they could 
 have done and nobody would have been hurt or 
 made the wiser. When I was a girl we used to 
 pin bay leaves on the four corners of our pillows 
 and one in the middle and then go to sleep and 
 dream over them. You know dreams can't do the 
 least mite of harm to anybody, Doctor Brownlow-" 
 
 "Ah, I see," said the doctor, who had been try- 
 ing to collect his wits during Aunt Judith's speech. 
 "I have been stupid! — stupid! Poor Clem came 
 176 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 over to tell me about something this morning, but 
 he was so agitated and looked so sick, that I drag- 
 ged him off to my den and ordered him to lie down 
 and not speak a word until he had my leave." 
 
 "O Doctor Brownlow," cried Annette, "open 
 the door! Let me out! I must see him at once. 
 Come lone, come!" 
 
 The trio hastened up to the Doctor's office, but 
 Annette was not admitted to the inner sanctuary 
 until the Doctor had gone through with his pre- 
 paratory service and lone had supplemented it 
 with her surprising confession. Then she rushed 
 in and the Doctor and lone discreetly withdrew. 
 
 "Such misery as theirs is soon cured," said the 
 Doctor, taking the well worn valentine from his 
 breast pocket ; "but I'm sorry about this. I have 
 been treasuring the visible characters as a part of 
 the thought and sentiment. Now I long to tear 
 off the deceptive wrapping. If you would only 
 write it with your own hand " 
 
 "I did write it with my own hand, every word 
 of it. Miss Maury never saw it nor knew I sent 
 it until an hour ago. O, I thought you knew but 
 it seems almost impossible to get everything ex- 
 plained," said lone with a little gesture of de- 
 spair and a slight pursing of the lips. 
 
 "Be consoled," said the Doctor. He was look- 
 ing at the sweet lips and wildly wishing that ex- 
 planations from such source might be delayed in- 
 definitely — with himself as recipient ;' but he added 
 
 12 177 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 quickly: "There is no hurry now. We have done 
 our main duty by that pair of lovers. They are 
 not suffering — eh? I fancy I hear a soft murmur- 
 ing — very soft and continuous, like that of busy — 
 honey-sipping bees- We can venture to leave 
 them to their accumulated sweets, can't we, while 
 we settle this little matter of chirography ?" 
 
 He seated her at his desk and himself at her 
 side and proceeded to spread out the fateful valen- 
 tine. 
 
 "Now, Miss Grayson, you say you wrote this 
 with your own hand. I don't doubt it. I'm glad 
 of it — deliriously glad. I shan't have to ask for a 
 divorce between the sentiment and writing, but I 
 want to ask you if anyone ever told you that 
 your hand-writing was amazingly like Miss Mau- 
 ry's?" 
 
 "Yes, cousin Rache spoke of it every time we 
 received a note from her; and so somebody made 
 a mistake and hasn't come up to the explanation 
 point yet," said lone smiling ; "but it's no matter. 
 I'm the one to blame. I ought never to have 
 written it." 
 
 "You blame yourself too much, Miss Grayson, 
 and too entirely, but I'm afraid if I tell you ex- 
 actly what I did when I received this precious 
 missive, you will blame me — too much. Be ad- 
 vised, I'm a coward. One of the social cowards 
 who has a perfect horror of being blamed more 
 than he deserves, and I won't be, if I can help it." 
 
 178 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 My theory is that most of the wretchedness of 
 the world comes from over-blame — false blame — 
 from judging by visible acts — visible, miserable, 
 foolish, bungling acts. Do you know that it is 
 generally conceded now that the most disastrous 
 war of the century was a prodigious blunder? 
 The little war in the Northwest is a little blunder 
 — so little that those who sit on thrones with the 
 whole world to fill their mouths and minds can't 
 see it at all. They can't see such a blunder any more 
 than they could see what difference it made to the 
 Indian half-breed, whether his land was staked 
 out in squares or parallelograms. They couldn't 
 see when they ordered the stakes that they were 
 aiming a blow at his heart, his meagre social life, 
 his last earthly hope and making a desperate man 
 of him, but they were doing it all the same-" 
 
 "What a spectacle for civilization when it stops 
 to look behind the insane acts ! 
 
 "Yes, it took a hard-worked, hard-conditioned, 
 hard-loving race, centuries of time to raise 
 up a representative — a Louis Riel! England 
 will run him down and break his neck in six 
 months." 
 
 "0 you don't think they will execute him, cried 
 lone. "Annette met him on her way home! He 
 loves his people with such deathless devotion ! what 
 a blow it would be to her !" 
 
 They will kill him surely," said the Doctor. 
 "They call him 'only a drunken Indian' though his 
 
 179 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 skin and heart are white and he is only drunk with 
 the passion of humanity. Blunder upon blunder! 
 The world is full of them." 
 
 He was looking into misty eyes — the world was 
 being justified. Bad as it was he felt it was worth 
 living in. 
 
 "You see how it is, dear Miss Grayson — peo- 
 ples, families, friends and even lovers misunder- 
 stand each other. Then they quarrel and fall 
 forever apart." 
 
 lone leaned on the near arm of the chair — so 
 close, that her dainty sleeve touched his own, but 
 her beautiful eyes were turned away. 
 
 "And it's all because they judge of the poor, 
 weak, foolish, insane act, instead of the feel- 
 ing behind the act — the impelling force. It's 
 all wrong. It makes war where peace should 
 be — hate where there should be love, — only 
 love." 
 
 lone swept back the bright ribbon that bound 
 her hair, with her little white hand. It smote his 
 cheek like a kiss- 
 He went on in mock desperation, "I can't stand 
 it ! I will not risk it ! I'm going to put the why be- 
 fore the what — that is, make you see why I did 
 a mean thing before I tell you what it 
 really was — put the intangible spirit of the 
 deed before the deed itself. If I had your 
 gift of words, you would only need to listen, 
 
 180 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 and one ear would be enough. But I haven't, 
 so you must use your eyes — you must watch and 
 I must resort to measures, which for lack of a 
 better word I will call strategic. To begin with 
 allow me to wheel your chair squarely to the front. 
 That's right, now please look at me, eye to eye 
 and be my judge. Look deep that your verdict 
 may be just — just heavenly." 
 
 lone looked without fear or trembling. The 
 eyes she looked into were clear and blue and open 
 as the skies. The room was full of restful silence. 
 It lasted a long time but it could not last for- 
 ever. The Doctor finally broke the silence after 
 this wise: 
 
 "Would that our hearts were 'crystal spheres' 
 like old Eudoxian worlds — then we could look 
 and look, read and read and words would not be 
 needed — poor blundering words ! What a blessing 
 it would be for me at least, but they are not thus 
 constructed, so you must listen now as well as 
 look." 
 
 lone nodded assent. 
 
 "Can you believe that the blessed saint's day 
 of which you sent me such a charming description, 
 found me longing for love as strongly as you 
 were — more strongly perhaps, because with me it 
 was wordless and unutterable, as well as unhelp- 
 able. That I threw myself down in the very chair 
 you are sitting in — strangely spent — crying out 
 with a pain for which materia medicae has no 
 181 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 name — that I fell asleep at last and dreamed that 
 the love I longed for came and kissed away the 
 tears and stilled the dreadful longing with her 
 radiant, all-enwrapping presence. Can you be- 
 lieve in anything so foolish or so blunderingly de- 
 scribed?" 
 
 "Yes! yes! I can believe- I am looking. I see 
 that it was so; but when you awoke and found 
 it was a dream did the cruel pain come back 
 again," asked lone tenderly? 
 
 "No, because when I awoke I found your sweet 
 valentine awaiting me. 'Heaven's message' I call- 
 ed it — written in celestial type and sent by a de- 
 livering angel. I kissed the superscription. I 
 broke the seal with a tremor of delight. I read, 
 re-read and was lonely no longer. I vowed I 
 would 'follow the gleam' — that is, find out who 
 wrote it; but here's where the meanness comes in, 
 the poor petty delusive act. Here's where you 
 will need to employ a third sense if you would help 
 me out. Oh ! I begin to think that all of our five 
 senses must be thoroughly alive in order to ap- 
 preciate a thoroughly alive human being — appre- 
 ciate him up to the point of loving him fully and 
 forever. Did you ever think about it Miss Gray- 
 son?" 
 
 "No, but I'm beginning to think — to think it 
 is " 
 
 True, she was going to say but she stopped 
 when she thought of what it might involve. 
 182 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 The Doctor smiled and went on. 
 
 "Will you believe me Miss Grayson, when I 
 say it was no idle curiosity that tempted me to 
 go to old Master Adrian and get him to help me 
 ferret out your hand-writing? that it was no 
 boastful rivalry that tempted me to show the prec- 
 ious valentine to dear old Clem? — that I was not 
 in love with Miss Maury? that I was in love with 
 the valentine? that I wore it over my heart by 
 day? that I laid it under my pillow by night? 
 dreamed of the hand that wrote it and of the face 
 that bent over it? Will you believe me when I 
 tell you now that the face and hand of my dreams 
 were marvellously like your own? Will you look 
 at the impelling force and forgive the weak, mean, 
 insane acts?" 
 
 "O ! I should be so glad to believe and I — thank 
 you from my very heart; but there is nothing to 
 forgive, I have something to confess, but not now 
 — surely not now — not here," said lone blushing 
 prettily. 
 
 "Why and when and where," asked the Doctor, 
 with rising impatience. 
 
 "Because there are things not proper for girls 
 to tell unless it be — " she broke off in confusion. 
 
 "Unless it be to the all-worthy— the fellow she 
 is engaged to— unless it be at home with a duen- 
 na in the back corner," grumbled the Doctor. 
 "You see I have eyes and can read too and it 
 makes me furious — as though it were not as 
 183 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 safe to speak out here, in my rooms, open to the 
 whole world, as it would be in Aunt Judith's 
 shady parlors — as though I would not guard you, 
 against myself if needed, as carefully as a lynx- 
 eyed duenna ; and yet you will not- A moment ago 
 you wanted to say love, but you said thanks, 
 because you thought it would not be proper for 
 you to say that word before I had said it a thou- 
 sand times. What a task to put on a bashful 
 young fellow! But as I've got to do it, I'm going 
 to begin now and d — m the proprieties." 
 
 lone gathered herself up for the oncoming tide. 
 
 "I love you, I love you, I love you, I love 
 
 you ." 
 
 No knowing how long he would have gone on 
 repeating the magic words, had not Zadkiel come 
 thundering at the door. 
 
 "Mistress Grayson says ther's a storm a brew- 
 in' and we must be hurrying home," said Zadkiel, 
 in hot haste. 
 
 Zadkiel in hot haste was an anomoly ; but lone 
 divined the cause. 
 
 "Just the reason why you should not go, man- 
 alive," growled the Doctor. 
 
 "O, I fear I have kept them waiting too long 
 already ! Annette is in good keeping, surely," said 
 lone. She held out her hand and added with sweet 
 dignity "I know we should all be very happy to 
 see you at Grayson Farm." 
 
 The Doctor grasped the little hand and hung 
 184 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 on to it as though it had been the last straw. He 
 hovered over her all the way down the long stair- 
 way — helping her as though she were an invalid 
 and needed help — as though she had a weak heart 
 and needed to rest on every step — as though she 
 were blind and could not see where to plant her 
 pretty feet. Even at the carriage door he tried 
 to hold her back under pretense of a frightful 
 storm. 
 
 But Aunt Judith came to the rescue as usual in 
 such emergencies. 
 
 "It will soon blow over," she remarked. "It's 
 what Bridget would call 'a dish-water rain,' We 
 will drive on now Zadkiel-" 
 
 The anxious Zadkiel did not wait for a second 
 order. He drove on, like "all possest" thought 
 Saff, who sat by his side with folded arms. 
 
 "I never knew slow old Zad to drive at such a 
 rollicking speed," laughed Rachael. "The war- 
 camp must have made a fast man out of him. He 
 drives as though he were on Eternity Road and 
 was bound to get there on schedule time." 
 
 Aunt Judith nodded and gave her a shrewd 
 look. 
 
 "On the road to Grayson Farm and — Bridget 
 you might better have said, dear niece." 
 
 lone was gazing out of the window, perfectly 
 oblivious to all else except the figure of Dr. 
 Franklin Brownlow — standing by the curb-stone 
 
 185 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 as though transfixed, just where they had left him. 
 Transfigured he seemed to her magnified vision 
 as the sheet-lightning flashed on his hatless head. 
 
 186 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 JEROLD BUYS A CHRISTMAS PRESENT FOR HIS 
 AUGUST LANDLADY. 
 
 RUSH proved to be a person of prime 
 importance above stairs. He was the 
 chief chamber-man, (not "maid") whose 
 duty it was to see that the three boys 
 of conflicting shades of color, who filled the chamb- 
 ermaids' place, did their work properly. He was 
 so competent and obliging that Jerold had no 
 necessity for again referring to head quarters; 
 and from that time until the day after Christ- 
 mas, an interval of ten months, he never saw his 
 most rare landlady except on one or two occasions 
 when she was entering or alighting from a car- 
 riage. He thought of her sometimes and of the 
 invisible daughter who preferred books to jewels, 
 and when he was buying his stock of Christ- 
 mas gifts it occurred to him that it would be quite 
 the right thing to buy a present for Mrs. Duive- 
 land. She to whom he was indebted for a home 
 that suited him so exactly; but what to buy was 
 
 187 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 the question. Had it been for the daughter it 
 would be a set of books, but he did not know Mrs. 
 Duiveland's tastes. The weather decided him at 
 last. The day before Christmas was so intensely 
 cold that his fingers felt frost-bitten in their kid 
 casings. Passing a furrier's window at the mo- 
 ment he saw such a warm, lovely looking muff! 
 He felt he would like to have worn it himself if 
 custom had not forbidden it. He went in and 
 priced it. It was a Russian Sable and fit for a 
 queen, but as Jerold had accepted the idea that 
 Mrs. Duiveland was a queen of a certain kind and 
 he did not know what else to get, he bought it 
 and sent it to her by Rush on Christmas morning. 
 
 Rush came the next morning to say that "Mrs. 
 Duiveland would like to speak with him and he 
 would show him to her room." 
 
 He followed Rush through branching halls and 
 up a winding staircase hitherto unknown to him, 
 and was finally ushered into a room, made 
 cheery by a glowing grate and the unobstructed 
 light shining through a large south window. There 
 was nothing solely ornamental in it ; and things 
 useful were not made a nuisance by being put 
 where they were not wanted. In the coziest corner 
 was a handsome library table. Within reach of it 
 were bookcases well filled. A young lady was 
 sitting by the table with her back to the door. 
 She was apparently absorbed in reading or writ- 
 ing and when Jerold entered she did not move. 
 
 188 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Mrs. Duiveland spoke to him without rising 
 and bade him be seated. She had the muff on her 
 lap and was stroking it with her delicate hands. 
 
 "It is very beautiful," said she, "but I cannot 
 accept it. I have never taken gifts from any one 
 in the house but Captain Durand. He is a life- 
 long friend and has been here from the first. How 
 long since you came, Mr. Worthington ?" 
 
 "A year next Valentine's Day," replied Jerold, 
 who was rather abashed by the dignified refusal 
 of his gift. It was a new experience and he was 
 not quite sure he liked it, though it had the at- 
 tractiveness of novelty; but he added after an 
 awkward pause. "I have found such a pleasant 
 home here, I felt like giving thanks." 
 
 "I am glad you feel at home," said Mrs. Duive- 
 land, with a questioning gaze. She was wonder- 
 ing what kind of a home he must have had that 
 he could be so well pleased. If she had put her 
 question into words it would have been highly 
 impertinent ; but we may look into each other's 
 minds and help ourselves to conclusions which can 
 not be spoken of without offense. Taking it 
 for granted that Mrs. Duiveland went so far as to 
 help herself to a picture of an uncongenial wife 
 and chaotic housekeeping, she was no more to 
 blame than Jerold was for thinking of the lank and 
 lazy Durand, who was the only one in the house 
 that seemed to be desperately discontented and 
 ill at ease. 
 
 189 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Suppose you accept the sable on assurance 
 that I have made myself more at home in ten 
 months than Captain Durand has in so many 
 years. He spends his evenings at the Powhattan 
 club- I spend mine mainly in my room. Which 
 is a sign of greater domestication?" 
 
 Jerold laughed and the girl at the desk wheeled 
 about and laughed almost wildly. 
 
 "It is my daughter Athena," said Mrs. Duive- 
 land, concisely- 
 
 She had blue-black, rippling hair like her hand- 
 some mother, but there the resemblance ended. 
 Her skin was much darker. He forehead was nar- 
 row and positively ill-shaped. Her eyes were her 
 only redeeming feature and they were more at- 
 tractive than beautiful. They were very large 
 and dusky, with a peculiar look that made one 
 forget the rest of the face. There was a gleam 
 of mischief in them as she caught the muff from 
 her mother's lap and held it in her arms as 
 though it had been a pet kitten. She rubbed her 
 cheek against it, patted it, tossed it up and down 
 and played with it like an antic child. 
 
 "You see," said Jerold, "your daughter can 
 make use of it. Let her have it. It would be bet- 
 ter than feeding it to moths." 
 
 "Athena," said Mrs. Duiveland, tell the gen- 
 tleman what you would think of such a costly 
 present" 
 
 Athena put her hands in the muff — arose with 
 190 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 a grand air and moved across the room with a 
 swaying motion which was a good substitute for 
 grace if not the exact quality. Her evident inten- 
 tion was to imitate the rich and proud; then she 
 paused before Jerold and said: 
 
 "Mawmaw brought me up not to take gifts but 
 if I did they would not be like this. I love things 
 I can carry in my head. I would have to carry 
 this on my hands." 
 
 That settled it. Athena tucked the precious 
 muff in its box and Mrs. Duiveland rose smiling 
 from her chair — just as the queen does when she 
 wishes her caller to go; but the subject is not ex- 
 pected to make his adieus with a bundle in hand. 
 "If you can not keep it with a good conscience 
 you may return it by Rush," said Jerold bowing 
 himself respectfully out. 
 
 The muff was returned with provoking prompt- 
 ness, and Mrs. Duiveland disappeared as prompt- 
 ly from his horizon, but he caught a glimpse of 
 the daughter at the Ice Carnival. She was dressed 
 from head to foot in a fleecy lamb's wool suit 
 with muff to match- Her hood was surmounted 
 with a lamb's head and covered her entire face 
 with the exception of the great mischievious eyes- 
 He would have known them anywhere. She show- 
 ed that she recognized him by making a frisky 
 motion with her muff, very much as she had done 
 with his rejected seal-skin. 
 
 He saw nothing more of her in the weeks that 
 
 191 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 followed and would have succeeded in putting her 
 quite out of mind had it not been for an important 
 turn in the calendar which ushered in the mischief- 
 loving St. Valentine. On the evening of that day 
 he received a valentine which appeared to be the 
 work of an amateur poet ; and as it addressed 
 him as "Jason of the Golden Fleece" — the charac- 
 ter he had taken at the carnival, he had no thought 
 it could be from any other than Athena Duiveland. 
 
 He replied at once, briefly and in good prose — 
 complimenting her on her enviable talent — regret- 
 ting that he could not reply in the same measure 
 and begging her to accept a whole book of poems 
 instead. 
 
 This led to an invitation to call and make ex- 
 planations ; but although there was much banter- 
 ing and many mischievous looks on the part of 
 the daughter, still there was nothing said to make 
 him think for an instant that she was not the au- 
 thor of the valentine or to dispossess him of the 
 fancy that he was in the presence of a budding 
 poetess who might in the process of development 
 become a very charming woman. 
 
 192 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 BB.IDGET EXPLAINS SAFF WALKUp's EXALTATION TO 
 THE GRAYSON CARRIAGE BOX. 
 
 * 
 
 WHEN Noah's Ark arrived at Gray- 
 son Cottage the horses were snort- 
 ing and foaming "to beat the 
 band," Saff thought and Zad- 
 kiel still continued to act like "all possesst." He 
 threw the reins into poor Saff's face with an or- 
 der "to give them animals a good rubbin' down 
 and no chaffin' — ner chaff nuther" 
 
 Then he leaped to the ground and made a bee 
 line to the wood-shed door ; for his eager eyes had 
 seen the gleam of a red dress and white apron 
 disappearing suddenly within. After a desperate 
 chase he managed to corner the owner of said 
 garments in the kitchen pantry. He would not 
 wait for terms of capitulation. He was insanely 
 jealous of Saff Walkup on more than one score 
 and no word of explanation had yet been made. 
 No wonder that his love and ire had reached their 
 utmost bounds, or that the elusive Biddy, when 
 13 193 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 really caught, was held fast while a stream of 
 questions, kisses and condemnatory words were 
 rained upon her in such quick succession as to al- 
 most take away her breath ; but she comprehended 
 the situation clearly enough. Poor Zad had been 
 treated like a good patient dog and it made him 
 feel like a hungry dog. 
 
 As to herself she was not averse to taking the 
 whole of his blame, but she would have her own 
 way about it. Her way was to rage for a bit, then 
 she blurted out. 
 
 "Howiver can I be goin' te til ye oynthing 
 whin ye woant lave me sphaykin' place alane a 
 blissid minyit?" 
 
 "Lord be praised," laughed Zadkiel, ef I've dis- 
 kivered the tremendus secret of shettin' off your 
 salt and pepper tongue. I'll recomember tu use 
 it librily in futer instead of onpleasant argy- 
 ments." 
 
 At which instant Zad seized upon the well 
 rounded arms that had been thrown up in self 
 defense and brought them down so dexterously 
 that the pretty head fell plump on his shoulders. 
 
 Once in the right position he managed to keep 
 it there until she had told him the whole story of 
 Saff Walkup's exaltation to the carriage box of 
 the Grayson family. 
 
 She told it in her comico-pathetic way so fas- 
 cinating to Zadkiel, who tried to repay her by 
 sundry acts, such as smoothing her satiny hair. 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 which was in no need of being smoothed — a fact 
 of which she reminded him when she bade him 
 "lave alane the towzling with his wither-chipt 
 paw." 
 
 Then she softened and took his great weather- 
 chapped paw in her own and said she had saved 
 a "bit o' goose grayse, which would smooth out 
 the crayses and make thim fit te ba sayn." 
 
 As to Saff she said it was Mistress Grayson's 
 fault if "ainy wans" for it was "hersilf thet wint 
 ta Saff's mither's death-bid an' found thim in the 
 cowld an' doort an' muddel, widout a drap iv 
 sthufF fit te ait er drink, an' poor simple Saff a 
 crying an' a howlding on't his mother's frayzing 
 hand, an' a promising te ba good and thry to git 
 the wurruk ta kape tha owld house aiver tha 
 young wans hids." 
 
 At this point Biddy had to stop and shed a 
 few tears, which Zad kissed away while he cursed 
 himself for being such a brute to SafF, about the 
 horses — poor Saff! 
 
 "Thin t'war meself thet wint wid the guid mis- 
 thress an' claned up the house whilst she wor 
 dressing up the puir ded body an' the raggid bed 
 an' a makin' iverything daycint fer the funeral 
 day — no aisy wurruk ye may be shure — baying 
 ther war more boogs an' brats a running in an' 
 oot o' the corners thin ye cud shaik a sthick at." 
 
 "Didn't I tell yu them Walkups were a dirty, 
 shiftlis «et," said Zadkiel, laughing triumphantly 
 
 195 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 and trying to hug himself and Biddy at the same 
 time? — a performance which was immoderately 
 successful judging from the fact that the stick 
 pen which Biddy had formerly taunted him with 
 wearing "foriver in his brist pocket," was broken 
 squarely into. 
 
 "Metaut t'wor the harth-strings ye wor schnap- 
 pin," said Biddy, slyly. 
 
 Zadkiel drew forth the wrecked pencil with a 
 quizzical look while he repeated: 
 
 "Didn't I tell yu them Walkups wur a dirty, 
 shiftlis set?" 
 
 "Sure ye towld the truth; but the towlding 
 didn't put on the shifts," said Biddy, "ainy mair 
 than callin' Saff a lazy bones cood maik him in- 
 dustris suddintly; ain the wurruk iv kaping the 
 brats frum frayzing must be dune suddintly." 
 
 "And so you let the lazy skunk come here and 
 you wheedeld Mistress Grayson into giving him 
 work instid of making him skedadel and hunt it 
 up fer himself," growled Zad. The tiger of jeal- 
 ousy was rising in him again. 
 
 "Yes," he went on, "and yu fed him and mopped 
 up arter him and mended his rotten socks, and 
 scolded and nattered him 'til he fell head over 
 heels in love with yu an follered yu round like a 
 blamed cussed little corset lamb." 
 
 "Fed him, did ye say? Ye may as well call me 
 a thaif," said Biddy, huffily, "es ye hed the hardnis 
 to do wonce bayfore." 
 
 196 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 Zadkiel recalled the episode of the milking and 
 swift contrition set in. 
 
 "Forgive me, Biddy, I didn't mean to say yu 
 fed him with stolen vittels, yu know I didn't ; but 
 yu can't deny that yu flattered him and scolded 
 him so good naterdly thet he fell flat in love with 
 yu and follered yu round and wanted to " 
 
 "Me flattery's me ain," snapped Biddy, "an' 
 the scowlding an' et plaises me to use thim whin- 
 ever I think bist. As to the follering an' corset- 
 ing an' the loiks, its fer thim that hes the legs 
 and corsets to waisth. Bridget O'Conner's nocht 
 tha gurril to sphile Misthris Graysin's baynivi- 
 lint instinshuns fer fayr iv thim." 
 
 "I know yu air a brave girl, Biddy and can 
 pertekt yewr vertu ginst the wust. I know by the 
 way yu kerry yerself yu desendid strait down 
 from fine old Irish stock; but — Saff " 
 
 "Indade! an' indade," cried Biddy, "the thrub- 
 bel is I've daysinded too far- Af I'd sthopt in 
 tha foine auld time whin the O'Conners wor aiquil 
 to the kings an' quains 'ets happy I wud a bin and 
 niver a kim to this murtherin' cowld-harthed, 
 cowld-withered kintry." 
 
 "Bridget! Bridget! yu don't mean tu tell me 
 yu'd ruther hev lived in them barbrous old times 
 and be dead now, than tu live in these civilized 
 ones and be right here and all alive this evening 
 with— i-with a feller that would never want to go tu 
 war or the circus or Fourth o' July blow-outs any 
 
 197 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 more if yu'd stay tu hum with him stiddy and be 
 as 'greeable as yu know how tu be." 
 
 "Indade I wud," said Biddy, flouncing off to 
 put on the teakittle. "Foine owld times tha wor 
 thil the 'curse iv Crumil' came an' daystroyed 
 thim." 
 
 "Fine old times indeed," replied Zadkiel, with 
 huge irony. "In them times if a feller wanted a 
 wife all he hed to du was tu take a halter and go 
 out and ketch one." 
 
 Biddy pretended not to hear the last remark, 
 but went about the supper getting so deftly and 
 merrily that it made the old kitchen seem like 
 paradise to Zadkiel, who had been face to face 
 with the comfortless and ghastly North — a home- 
 less and home-sick man. 
 
 198 
 
CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 A MEMENTO OF THE RED RIVER REGION. 
 
 VERY sweet was Bridget to Zadkiel dur- 
 the supper-getting and eating, helping 
 him bountifully to the food she knew he 
 liked best. After supper she tidied up 
 the kitchen and set the two rocking chairs in the 
 exact places where they were the evening before 
 he went away. Only one thing was missing. It 
 was Zad's old hair trunk. Stupid Zad! As soon 
 as she made him see the delinquency he ran to the 
 stable and brought it in. Then the fun began 
 again- 
 
 "I brought yu a memento," said Zadkiel, div- 
 ing into the depths of the trunk and fishing out 
 a small package, carefully done up in about a 
 dozen religious tracts — a fact which would have led 
 the sophisticated to believe that religious tracts 
 possessed the same attraction to the Indian lace- 
 makers that bibles were found to possess for the 
 Chinese torpedo-makers, who used the bible leaves 
 in their work and used a great many. 
 
 199 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "It's from the Red River kintry," said Bridget 
 — "the place ye wor born at." 
 
 "No dear, I couldn't wait tu git there th'out 
 buying yu somethin. I bought this at an Injun 
 reservation." 
 
 "Hivin resarve me af it baint a bit iv imbroid- 
 ered nose-rag," exclaimed Bridget, as she took 
 off the last wrapping and seized upon a dainty 
 square of linen fairly smothered with the finest 
 of stitches — leaving nothing (as the custom is) 
 that could do duty as a handkerchief except a 
 space of about three inches square in the centre. 
 
 "Methot I'd niver come to it through all the 
 covers," said Biddy, "methinks they've na ray- 
 spict for their rayding." 
 
 "I guess its mighty little time they'd git for 
 readin'," said Zad, "if they airnt a decent living 
 by making sech diflkilt hankachers. I guess the 
 time has come for them that give sech poor creat- 
 ures books and tracts tu read, tu give 'em time tu 
 read 'em in." 
 
 "Joost !" said Biddy, spreading the handker- 
 chief over Zad's dark coat sleeve, to show off the 
 beautiful pattern. She showed all of a woman's 
 pleasure and curiosity in the work, but a tender 
 feeling came into her face at last. 
 
 "Oh, Zadkiel," she cried, "an' ye wint an' bought 
 
 all this for the loiks iv me, whin ye couldn't afford 
 
 it an' the puir Indian gurril cudint afford to 
 
 blind the eyes out iv her a making iv et, ayther; 
 
 200 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 an' thurs na sints in it, whin thurs haips iv nis- 
 sisary worruk in the warruld." 
 
 As Bridget's ready tears began to flow, Zad- 
 kiel picked up the frail rag with his rough fingers 
 and began to wipe them away; but she snatched 
 it from him, declaring it would be "sphiled." 
 
 Zadkiel assured her that such sweet drops could 
 never spoil anything and proceeded to prove that 
 to his liking they were better than choice wine. 
 
 "Aff with yer nonsinsery! Plaise sphaik iv the 
 puir Indian gurril that makes thim foine wur- 
 ruk's," said Bridget. 
 
 "T'wasn't one poor Injin girl", said Zadkiel, 
 "but a hull nest of 'em. T'wasn't one hankacher, 
 but lots and slathers of them. T'wasn't hanker- 
 chers unly, but lots of bed-kivers all kivered over 
 with a solid blotch of jest such work. But they 
 hain't made fer poor folks. They'r made for 
 queens — not the old kentry Queens but this ken- 
 try's queens — the Queens of railroad kings and 
 cattle kings and sugar kings and coal kings and 
 such." 
 
 "It's a grait price the puir gurrils must git 
 from the quains," said Bridget. 
 
 "Not's I know of," said Zadkiel. "Yu see I 
 kinder figured it up just fer the kewrosity of the 
 thing. It takes a big lot o' hankerchers tu make 
 a bed-kiver and a railroad queen hed jist bought 
 one <and paid jist about half as much as I did for 
 
 201 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 this 'cordingly — but yu see rich folks alius do 
 come out ahead on big jobs." 
 
 "Joost !" the main owld craythurs," said Brid- 
 get. "T'wudn't be Biddy O'Conner thut wid 
 worruk for the loikes iv thim, or be sthopin' in 
 such an onaquil plais." 
 
 "Yu've hit it Biddy," laughed Zadkiel, "it was 
 ruther unequal all around — so much high up and 
 low down — a church with a great high steeple 
 and great big winders. Then there was a lot of 
 little low huts all round it without any winders 
 at all hardly. It was what they called a historic 
 place." 
 
 Zadkiel stopped short — caught by the shadow 
 of a remembrance. 
 
 "Plaize tell all abute the histeric place," said 
 Bridget, impatiently. 
 
 Zadkiel laughed as though a whole circus had 
 been let loose upon him; but he sobered up sud- 
 denly. 
 
 "It was a place where there was an In- 
 jun massaker. I remember hearing about it 
 when I was a young one. It was an orful thing 
 Biddy, — tu orful tu speak about tu wo- 
 men folks and youngsters. So orful that it 
 made my hair stand up so stiff I couldn't sleep 
 a wink all night. They said the church was built 
 right on the massaker spot; and that an Injun 
 chief, Good Thunder, bought the spot for 'em, an' 
 202 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 paid for it with his daily labor — daily fishing, 
 I suppose they meant." 
 
 "Och, the daysate of it," said Biddy! "The 
 praytince iv hilping the puir Indyans an' a ray- 
 sayving hilp from thim instid!" 
 
 "The church had a great big expensive winder 
 put intu it for the minister's wife arter she died, 
 and they said that the Injuns boys airnt the mon- 
 ey tu buy it by selling frogs legs." 
 
 "Curious wasn't it," added Zadkiel, "that so 
 many frogs legs should be wasted on a winder that 
 wasn't tu be used for anything but a tomb-stun? 
 — when so many winders were needed in the dark 
 huts where they made the lace?" 
 
 "Joost," said Biddy,, "an' the nonsints iv a 
 praist with a wife t'be dayvarting his attinshuns 
 an' rayquiring the tomb-stone:" 
 
 "I never thought on it afore," said Zad, "but 
 I guess the Protestants du send their ministers 
 out purty heavy-loaded with family cares, but meb- 
 by it's better for the poor Injun women- to have 
 a white woman come amongst 'em an' die, than 
 'tis not tu hev 'em at all. An' mebby it's better 
 for the Injun boys tu fish for frogs tu build glass 
 tomb-stuns, than 'tis tu set round on holler logs 
 and do nothing." 
 
 "Joost," said Biddy, "its harrud to tell wuts 
 bist whin thurs na bist at all. But the frog's legs 
 'mind me iv the lovely frog-pond fronting Saff's 
 house." 
 
 203 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "I've thort on't more'n once, Biddy, an Injun 
 might make something out of that pond, but Saff 
 haint got any Injun in him, tho' he's dark com- 
 plected enough. Guess the Walkups are Italians. 
 They work as tho' twere alius going to be sum- 
 mer; but tain't no use talking. They haint got 
 a mite of gumption, none on 'em." 
 
 "It baint fer the loikes iv me ter say't puir Saff 
 don't know enough to go a frogging, an' its me- 
 silf that'll ba going te spbake to him about the 
 frog business airly in the morning an' af ye dis- 
 kiver some won a hanting the frog-pond iv a sud- 
 dint, ye naiden't be sispishning it's his ghost. But 
 I pity 'im all the saim — a saitin an' a shivering on 
 the cowld bank. It's a thru misfortune to be born 
 in a rid-hot kintry, an' thin be doushed int' a fray- 
 zing cowld wan," she added pathetically — "be- 
 likes Miss lone" 
 
 Zadkiel began to understand the secret of Brid- 
 get's flatteries with Saff, but his jealousy was sup- 
 planted by other feelings almost as troublesome — 
 feelings that blew hot and cold and were hard to 
 put into proper language. He was fumbling in 
 his trunk for something to help him out, when 
 Biddy came to his relief. 
 
 "I'd a thought ye might a brought me a may- 
 minto from the Rid River region — some wee, bit 
 iv thing from the place ye were born at." 
 
 "And so I did, Biddy, but it's so very wee, I 
 feel kinder modest 'bout showing it up." 
 
 204 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "Af with ye's misjidgmints, air ye afther think- 
 in' I wud be beggarin' fer a choonk iv gowld er a 
 clister iv diamonds?" 
 
 Zadkiel took out a package, half opened it — 
 peered at it shyly, then switched out the contents 
 and held up a pair of child's moccasins gayly em- 
 broidered with shining beads. He glanced at her 
 out of the corner of his eye and added quickly. 
 
 "I bought these of a poor old squaw who hed 
 a great lot on 'em which she couldn't sell tied up 
 in an Injun blanket. She'd ben puttering over 
 them with her old wrinkled hands for I fergit how 
 many moons. The wretched critter hed just come 
 hum from a big walk, over snow drifts knee deep, 
 tu beg for white work. She said white lady no 
 buy injun work any more." 
 
 "I'd liked to have bought the whole lot," added 
 Zadkiel more boldly; for he saw the glint of an- 
 ger in Biddy's eye softening into sympathy — "but 
 I paid her double price for this little pair o' 
 twins and promised to send for more from time 
 to time. Yu see I thought they'd be better for 
 the kids than firecrackers and the more the poor 
 injun sold the better for her." 
 
 "Bliss yer harth, that ye didn't go and bait 
 down the price iv thim, as the mane rich foaks 
 wud a done," said Biddy, holding out her hand 
 for the coveted gift. "It's cute leetle wall pockits 
 they'll make for the hair-pins an' sich." 
 
 "Yew'l not be getting 'em 'til yu're thinking 
 
 205 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 of making a better use of them," said Zadkiel, 
 holding them away. 
 
 Biddy made a dive for them but failed in the at- 
 tempt. 
 
 "Truly Biddy I can't afford to let yu hev 'em 
 for such a purpose. I've wo;n 'em over my heart 
 so many nights, they've got to be almost a part 
 of it. Yew really must give me something in re- 
 turn" 
 
 If it's a mayminto yer fishing for, I have the 
 same," said Biddy, switching a frayed rag out 
 of her darning basket. It's the rail dish-cloth I 
 drapt in the pan th' instint Mistris Grayson told 
 me ye were going off to th' bluidy war. Niver 
 a sun-blist Monday did the contrairy Biddy 
 O'Oonner fprgit to sprid it aiver the brist iv the 
 white snow to blaich an' kape swait." 
 
 Zadkiel was not slow to seize the feathery dish- 
 cloth and the hand that held it in his vice-like 
 grasp ; and he would not let them go until he had 
 got a good strong promise from Biddy that she 
 would surely marry him — sometime — yes at no 
 distant day — that is if he would promise her "niv- 
 er t' go prancin' aff t' thim harrid wars and 
 murtherin Fourths ainy more." 
 
 Zad not only promised but he confessed his 
 failure to find the right side of war and his belief 
 that there was no right side. 
 
 "Yes, Biddy, yu are right," he said, war is a 
 beastly and wasteful way of settling difficulties 
 206 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 — and it don't settle 'em nuther. After all their 
 butcherin' they have tu hang up their swords and 
 go at it with their tongues. That's what tongues 
 were made for I reckon. One thing is sartin. Gov- 
 erments orter know nuff tu settle ther diffikilties 
 'thout setting us poor fellers up tu be shot down. 
 Of course tain't fer ignerant critters like me tu 
 say just how its tu be done; but them's that's had 
 a good chance at the edicashun orter know lots 
 o' ways that are better'n killin' human beings. 
 Ef they must have a game out of it, they might 
 play a game of checkers or suthin' of that kind. 
 Yes, and if they must hev a Fourth o' July blow- 
 out, they'd better blow out suthin besides child- 
 ren's eyes." 
 
 "Joost," said Bridget, "thims the sinsiblist war- 
 ruds I've met with sints I kim to this haythenish, 
 murthering kintry. The saints be praised, 
 the traipsin aff ta the Rid River were good for the 
 soul iv ye. Ye be growin' sinsibler ivery minyit 
 iv the time." 
 
 Thus encouraged, Zadkiel went on expressing 
 his views of the Riel Rebellion. 
 
 "The Red River settlers, he said "have their 
 greevances. They orter hev part o' the Hudson 
 Bay money, but th'ain't no sense fighting fer it 
 nor over dead relations' bones. Fighting and kill- 
 ing each other won't settle even the bone question. 
 It unly makes more bones tu be taken care of 
 and snarl over. If they'd save the money they 
 
 207 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 spend for powder and shot and buy a good bury- 
 ing ground and move their dead ones bones intu 
 it, they'd hit the nail square on the head. I told 
 'em so, and I told 'em when they got sobered down 
 tu it, I'd come up an' chip in; and I will but I 
 ain't goin' tu du no more settin' 'round on camp 
 stools growlin' like a do| 'bout my ancestors' 
 bones, and waiting tu kill sumbody that hain't 
 hed nuthin' tu du with 'em no more'n a little child 
 — a wee little one — with wee little moccasins on its 
 feet— eh; Biddy?" 
 
 Zadkiel's humane sentiments were very touching 
 to Biddy. She snuggled up to him and the moc- 
 casins were delivered over to her with a long 
 sweet good-night kiss. She put them under her 
 pillow later on and fell off into delightful dreams, 
 while poor old weather-beaten, weather-tossed 
 Zadkiel was smiling and saying softly to himself: 
 
 "Thank the Lord! its been ruther wild ca- 
 noein', but I reckon I've got a good strong hold 
 of the onreasonable creatur at last." 
 
 208 
 
CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 A QUADRUPLE WEDDING. 
 
 TO the general surprise of the inmates of 
 Grayson Cottage, Dr. Brownlow made 
 his appearance there, early the next 
 morning after Ione's explanation. They 
 were just finishing breakfast. Even lone hardly 
 expected he would call so promptly, although she 
 had arisen fully half an hour before Bridget came 
 to call her, (whereas she usually lay curled up in 
 bed until the last moment) and had made her morn- 
 ing toilet with uncommon care — dispensing with 
 the bungling wraps which she had been using up- 
 to-date, although the weather according to Aunt 
 Judith's estimate was growing "heavenly mild." 
 She was the first to notice his arrival also and she 
 met him with a glowing face, while Aunt Judith 
 and Rachael gave him a gracious reception. 
 
 He made his apology, which was of a three- 
 fold pattern- He had a patient living in their 
 direction — his blood once astir he was tempted to 
 14 209 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 extend his ride — and he was anxious to know how 
 they had endured the strain of the previous day? 
 
 The apology was accepted and the question 
 answered in proper form, but the informal inter- 
 view with lone — such as he had been dreaming 
 about during the long night ! He was quick to see 
 that it was out of the question and that it was un- 
 reasonable to expect it — also that it was his op- 
 portunity to make himself agreeable to the senior 
 members of the family and that he ought to be 
 happy or at least contented to do so. But he was 
 neither; although it was pleasant to watch lone 
 as the talk and explanations went on, and note 
 her unselfish efforts to help him along in the path 
 of social duty. 
 
 In spite of all, he was meanly conscious of mak- 
 ing numerous little strategic movements to get 
 lone to himself, that he might continue the love- 
 lessons so happily begun ; and was almost as much 
 exasperated, internally, at seeing his moves in- 
 nocently blocked, as though it had been done with 
 devilish design. Fortunately, however, for his 
 mood at parting' he was made Rachael's message 
 bearer to his dear friend, Mr. Jerold Worthing- 
 ton. On account of Ione's experience, Rachael 
 was determined to acknowledge her part of "the 
 foolishness," as Aunt Judith termed it, although 
 she felt sure no harm had been done by her own 
 valentine. "It was so unlike Ione's," she said — 
 "it had so little heart in it. Mr. Worthington 
 210 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 had probably made an end of it at once, by light- 
 ing his cigar with it — nevertheless she must even 
 mortify her pride by confessing that she had fur- 
 nished the lighter." 
 
 The next morning Dr. Brownlow came again 
 to say that he went to see Mr. Worthington di- 
 rectly, and that he had peremptorily denied hav- 
 ing used Rachael's poem for such an undignified 
 purpose as lighting cigars and that it also had a 
 remarkable history, which he vowed he would never 
 divulge except it might be at some future day to 
 Miss Rachael herself. 
 
 On the evening of this very same day Dr. 
 Brownlow brought Mr- Jerold Worthington to 
 make a call and the two couples went out for a 
 long walk through the budding groves of Gray- 
 son Farm. On which occasion Dr. Brownlow in- 
 duced lone to linger with him a long way behind 
 Rachael and Worthington — ostensibly, to give 
 Rachael a chance to charm the mysterious history 
 referred to, out of Worthington's keeping! but 
 in reality to lay open his eager heart to lone, and 
 prevail upon her to consent to be something more 
 than bridesmaid, at the fast approaching wedding 
 of Clement Osborne and Annette Maury. 
 
 And so and so, there was a double courting out 
 
 under the old trees, amidst the busy humming of 
 
 honey-seeking bees, the soft cooing of doves and 
 
 the jubilant songs of Messrs. Robin Redbreast as 
 
 211 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 they perched on fragrant boughs above their 
 brooding mates. 
 
 One perfect May day, Annette Maury came to 
 Grayson Farm, with that wonder working hap- 
 piness in her heart, which the cousins found it im- 
 possible to resist. She was glad on others' ac- 
 count as well as her own. 
 
 There was hope for Louis Riel. The day was 
 dark when he went forth to battle for his people,* 
 and his cause was lost; but he was saved. His 
 ship had gone down in darkness and night but he 
 would rise up an inspired Apostle of Peace and 
 Love. The time had surely passed when any 
 civilized Government, would or could take the life 
 of such a courageous, self-sacrificing, loving man ! 
 
 Such was Annette Maury's belief. "The worst 
 that could possibly happen to him," she said, 
 "would be exile and that would not be so very 
 bad, for they would go and see him on their wed- 
 ding journey and bring him home and care for 
 him all his life." 
 
 Then she had a romantic little story to tell 
 about Jerold Worthington, who as lone expressed 
 it, had really been widower'd after all. 
 
 "We will all be married in this quaint old par- 
 lor!" she exclaimed, after she had finished her 
 story and Rachael's interest in it had been duly 
 noted- 
 
 "Only think of it! Bird choruses instead of an 
 organ! The scent of violets on the stem, instead 
 212 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 of bottled perfumes ! Everything home-made, gen- 
 uine, sweet and beautiful." 
 
 Although the cousins more than half suspected 
 that those sly fellows, Franklin Brownlow and 
 Jerold Worthington, had employed her as their 
 secret ally, they had not the heart to say her 
 nay. 
 
 "She has suffered so much on our account," 
 said lone, naively; and when Aunt Judith turned 
 to Annette's side, even Rachael was swept into the 
 matrimonial whirl. 
 
 "There's no use trying to hold back," said Aunt 
 Judith — "that is if your fooling has come true, 
 which I judge it has. You might as well make 
 a general flutter of it all at once, as the birds 
 do, which you would go and imitate." 
 
 Accordingly, on one of the loveliest days in May, 
 the curious spectacle of a quadruple wedding oc- 
 curred at the old Grayson farm-house. After the 
 supper had been duly served Zadkiel came in lead- 
 ing the still reluctant Biddy. Saff Walkup came 
 with them and was smiling blandly at what he was 
 pleased to call Biddy's "no end contrariness," — 
 she was saying "no" where she should have said 
 "yes;" but his smile turned to alarm when she made 
 a sudden rush at him and bade him "go strait and 
 fetch the Praist." 
 
 Aunt Judith took Bridget in hand and she ex- 
 plained the matter by saying, amidst sobs and 
 tears : 
 
 213 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 "It's me puir owld mither I lift wayping in the 
 owld kinthry that wud niver blave I wor praper- 
 ly married widout tha Praist." 
 
 It was enough. Saff Walkup was ordered to 
 "hitch up and go at once." The Priest came and 
 the knot was tied to the satisfaction of all parties, 
 especially Zadkiel, who knew by the contented light 
 in Bridget's eye and the pressure of her willing 
 hand, that he had got at last the very strongest 
 kind of a "hold on the onreasonable creatur." 
 
 214 
 
CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 THE DUIVELAND MYSTERY AND TRAVESTY. WORDS 
 OF CHARITY AND CHEER. 
 
 OF the four beautiful brides that made 
 I celestial sunshine in the old Grayson 
 parlors, none looked so supremely hap- 
 py as the staid Rachael; and to none 
 other did Jerold Worthington explain just how 
 it was that her timely confession about the 
 valentine had saved him from offering his heart 
 and fortune to Athena Duiveland, who, with her 
 inborn talent for mischief would surely have made 
 a wreck of both. He saw it all at last through 
 the eclair cis sement of a love such as he had never 
 known before — a love that was soul-full, inde- 
 scribable, and as true as the stars ! But he 
 would not say a word against the strange, 
 magnetic, incomprehensible creature that had 
 touched his life so nearly. He believed in the sol- 
 idarity of the human race. His heart went out in 
 sympathy towards all sorts and conditions of 
 bread-winners — even to those that kept "a board- 
 ing-house for men only." His tenderness for 
 
 215 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 women was of a truly Christ-like pattern. But 
 why waste so many words in describing this most 
 rare man when it needed only one short paragragh 
 to make him stand forth like a revelation to the 
 clear-sighted Rachael Grayson? It was this: 
 
 "Between us two dear love, let me say that my se- 
 cret belief is that there's a mystery in the life of 
 Mrs. Duiveland and her daughter, which if fully 
 known and rightly judged, would make us weep 
 over, rather than condemn them; and that might 
 make us bow our heads to the earth, write the 
 gospel of forgiveness in the sand and leave them as 
 Christ did the woman of old, to go free and un- 
 hurt either by bonds or stones." 
 
 That Jerold Worthington was right, divinely 
 right, both in his judgment of the Duivelands and 
 his attitude toward them, can hardly be denied. 
 Human nature is common nature with or without 
 gloss. In spite of its pride, its struggles and its 
 aspirations, it gets heavily weighted and oftimes 
 foully dealt with. It has its woes, its insults, its 
 drawbacks and its travesties ! 
 
 It is superfluous to say that the adoring Rachael 
 needed no proofs of even the least of dear Jerold's 
 propositions ; but the proof of one of them came 
 without seeking one day when the newly wedded 
 couples, in an access of true love and friendliness 
 went to call on the Duivelands in their palatial 
 "boarding-house for men only." The day was chil- 
 ly and disagreeable without, (so at least lone pro- 
 
 216 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 nounced it) but they were ushered into a room, 
 made radiant by the sunshine and as hot as an 
 oven by an immense glowing grate. Reveling in 
 this luxury of light and heat was a family group 
 that lone had seen before and whose history was 
 as familiar to her as her a-b-c's. Equally familiar 
 was the motto that hung high above the mantel. 
 It was richly framed and embroidered in strange 
 hieroglyphics ; but it had been explained to her 
 more than once and this was its meaning. 
 
 "Give heed O Kings ! When ye say there shall 
 be no Masters and Slaves ; for in that day the 
 Masters will say there shall be no Kings and Sub- 
 jects-" 
 
 Thus it was that the Duiveland mystery was 
 divulged at last. Athena Duiveland was what might 
 be called (to use an expression as odd as herself) 
 a travesty in black and white. Old Captain Dur- 
 and was her father, Mrs. Duiveland was her moth- 
 er, Captain Durand's mistress and old-time slave! 
 his faithful, highly-gifted, white-blooded slave ! 
 
 She was a beautiful girl only fourteen years 
 of age when the awful fight for the freedom of 
 her race ended ! She had been so tenderly cared 
 for that she did not know the meaning of freedom, 
 and had no feeling but of horror for the boon that 
 was offered her by the brutal hand of war! What 
 wonder that she rejected it and accepted the double 
 bonds of slave and mistress from one who had been 
 reft of honor and fortune by the same hand; or 
 
 217 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 what wonder that he who had been educated to 
 despise manual labor, should see his golden oppor- 
 tunity, to obtain through her willing service, a 
 comfortable home and perhaps a fortune? At 
 any rate it had been done and old Captain Dur- 
 and had come to regard it as the huge irony of war 
 — the blundering, bloody old war, that had taken 
 from him a legal slave and returned to him a true 
 slave and mistress who had made him the sole 
 owner of a brown stone block, which he could sell 
 whenever he chose, and retire from business ; still 
 this consciousness did not make him a happy or 
 a lovable old man. No one ever is when he is 
 living a daily lie and is mortally afraid of being 
 caught in it- Besides there was the bitter, biting, 
 execrable climate ! He felt it more and more as 
 he grew older and his blood grew thinner. Some- 
 times he looked at the brown-stone alligators 
 sprawling on the railings of the door steps, com- 
 pared himself to them as a fish out of water and 
 felt like breaking every bond and returning to 
 spend his life in his native place. But alas ! there 
 were too many bonds. He had a large 
 family about him — a family which was un- 
 disputably his own although the members were of 
 varying shades of color ; and no knowing what 
 kind of a row, a breaking up would cause ; as they 
 had all worked for his interest. It might possi- 
 bly get him into such bad odor, that even the land 
 of the alligators would refuse to receive him or 
 218 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 give him a decent burial spot ; and so he must stay 
 on and on and shiver and shiver and shiver and 
 be buried at last in the bed that he had made for 
 himself — a cold, cold bed composed principally 
 of ice and snow! Poor old Captain Durand! Is it 
 right to laugh at him and say that he alone was 
 to blame for getting himself into such a perplex- 
 ing net-work of difficulties? Somebody or some 
 thing is almost always partly to blame for a man's 
 misfortunes. It is very seldom that he makes the 
 pit-fall into which he stumbles, or every line of the 
 net-work in which he is entangled. The conditions 
 of the world, its imperfect governments and laws 
 do their part. In short the whole lesson to be 
 learned by the Duiveland episode is, that legaliz- 
 ed slavery is not only wrong but that legalized 
 war is a still greater wrong. That so far as 
 American Negro Slavery is concerned, events have 
 proven, as lone intimated at the beginning, that 
 the violent wrenching away of slaves from their 
 masters and homes, has not been an unqualified 
 success. The old system was broken up, it is 
 true, but a secret system of slavery was inaugu- 
 rated — a system which is beyond reach of the army 
 of righteousness and is encouraged and fostered 
 by the army of blood and rapine the world over 
 This is not a preachment founded on a far off 
 and indefensible theory. The proofs are close at 
 hand. England abolished slavery by peaceful 
 methods. As a result there were no race hatreds 
 
 219 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 no nameless crimes, no barbarous lynchings and 
 burnings at the stake! Originally it was the 
 same with her Indian policy in The Canadas. As 
 long as the ethics of William Penn prevailed, Eng- 
 land's boast was that unlike America she had no 
 trouble with the Indians of the Northwest. But 
 alas for the poor Indian's more aspiring brother 
 the half-breed ! England's policy was not planted 
 on a rock — the Rock of Ages or any other Rock 
 — not even on one as staunch as Plymouth Rock- 
 It was left in fallible human hands. The good 
 Queen passed her prime and fell under the in- 
 fluence of — whom or what? Blind leaders of the 
 blind! who have to see the horrible outcome of a 
 wrong principle before they can recognize it to be 
 wrong! Who have to take a trip at Government 
 expense to its fields of carnage, arson, rape and 
 ruin before they can think of such a thing as con- 
 ciliation. 
 
 O ! worse than leaders of the blind ! who cry out 
 for conciliation at the wrong end ! When the mon- 
 strous evil is accomplished ! When the giant mur- 
 der is done ! When the Briareus head is severed 
 from the trunk! When the earth is impregnated 
 with its foul and fertile blood and a thousand 
 heads of sin and Satan are growing in its place! 
 
 O worse than reckless and blind ! O ! fiends in 
 disguise! Who talk of conciliation through de- 
 ceitful mouths and lips of iron, when they know 
 that there is nothing left in the places they have 
 220 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 made desolate but a harvest of woes and wars over 
 which they delight to gloat and glory. 
 
 Talk not of the poor and degraded! Talk not 
 of the outcast and degenerate! Of rebels to the 
 throne, O ! quasi, lords of a quasi civilization ! 
 Mercenary chiefs of the land-grabbing monopo- 
 lists! You who refuse to pay poverty stricken 
 people for the lands you take from under their 
 feet! Who spend millions of money for their 
 undoing and promise to pay many more for le- 
 galized murderers to rid yourselves of them and 
 their just demands! 
 
 O ! worse than demons in disguise ! Thieves and 
 murderers ! But why say more ! Judging from 
 Jerold Worthington's code of charity too much 
 has been said already. What more can be said? 
 
 Nothing, except that "of such is the kingdom 
 of Royalty," whether crowned or uncrowned, the 
 wide world over! — the unrighteous kingdom, that 
 shall erelong He blackened and shrivelled beneath 
 the tense light of the "kingdom of Heaven" and 
 crumble into dust ! 
 
 Nothing authentic, dear readers ! and yet a 
 voice from "Last Chance Gulch," cries out that 
 Royalty is a cheat as well as a thief and murder- 
 er! That The Dominion Government never paid 
 Riel's executioner, the money they agreed to pay 
 him for his services as hangman ! That he was 
 naturally brave and honest, but became by gov- 
 ernment demand or through government work, 
 221 
 
Between Two Rebellions 
 
 a poor misguided, misused man and finally died 
 of rotten old wounds received while fighting its 
 Indian battles. 
 
 Another voice of a more cheering kind, says 
 that "Riel was not executed at all." That he was 
 transplanted, or spirited away in some mysterious 
 manner and that the Government winked at the 
 matter; but it is easier to believe that the execu- 
 tioner's heart gave out one day when a beautiful 
 young bride came over from the American border 
 at the peril of her child's life, and fell in agony at 
 his feet while imploring him to "save the life of 
 Riel!" 
 
 Every tender hearted and right minded reader 
 will be glad to think that the lovely bride was 
 none other than Annette Maury Osborne; and 
 that she and her husband rescued Riel from the 
 inhuman jaws of death, took him home with them 
 and converted him into a true Apostle of Peace, 
 who went up and down the land during the rem- 
 nant of his mortal days, teaching the benighted 
 ones that it is infinitely better to suffer and die 
 for their country or their kind, than to fight 
 hideous battles for them, and slay their brothers 
 or their fellow men ! 
 
 [The End.]