mps and thickets of poplars, we reached the Lower Fort
Garry not very long after the sun had begun his morning work of making
gold the forest summits. I had run the gauntlet of the lower settlement;
I was between the Expedition and its destination, and it was time to lie
down and rest.

Up to this time no intimation had reached the Lower Fort of pursuit by
the myrmidons of M. Riel. But soon there came intelligence. A farmer
carrying corn to the mill in the fort had been stopped by a party of men
some seven miles away, and questioned as to his having seen a stranger;
others had also seen the mounted scouts. And so while I slept the sleep
of the tired my worthy host was receiving all manner of information
regarding the movements of the marauders who were in quest of his
sleeping guest.

I may have been asleep some two hours, when I became aware of a hand laid
on my shoulder and a voice whispering something into my ear. Rousing
myself from a very deep sleep, I beheld the Hudson Bay officer in charge
of the fort standing by the bed repeating words which failed at first to
carry any meaning along with them.

"The French are after you," he reiterated.

"The French"-where was I, in France?

I had been so sound asleep, that it took some seconds to gather up-the
different threads of thought where I had left them off a few hours
before, and "the French" was at that time altogether a new name in my
ears for the Red River natives. "The French are after you!" altogether it
was not an agreeable prospect to open my eyes upon, tired, exhausted, and
sleepy as I was. But, under the circumstances, breakfast seemed the best
preparation for the siege, assault, and general battery which, according
to all the rules of war, ought to have followed the announcement of the
Gallic Nationality being in full pursuit of me.

Seated at breakfast, and doing full justice to a very excellent mutton
chop and cup of Hudson Bay Company Souchong (and where does there exist
such tea; out of China?), I heard a digest of the pursuit from the lips
of my host. The French had visited him in his fort once before with evil
intentions, and they might come again, so he proposed that we should
drive down to the Indian Settlement, where the ever-faithful Ojibbeways
would, if necessary, roll back the tide of Gallic pursuit, giving the
pursuers a reception in which Pahaouza-tau-ka, or "The Great
Scalp-taker," would play a prominent part.

Breakfast over, a drive o