r
England. The Plain Rangers, it may be explained, have uttered the wild
threat that if they "can catch Robertson," they will avenge the
destruction of Fort Gibraltar "by skinning him alive and feeding him to
the dogs." Also it is well known, Nor'westers of Qu'Appelle have
muttered angry prophecies about "the ground being drenched with the blood
of the colonists."

Still Semple talks peace, which is a good thing in its place; but this is
n't the place.

"My Governor! My Governor!" pleads an old hunter of the Hudson's Bay
with Semple; "are you not afraid? The half-breeds are gathering to kill
you!"

Semple laughs. Pshaw! _He_ has law on _his_ side. Law! What is law?
The old hunter of the lawless wilds does n't know that word. That word
does n't come as far west as the _Pays d'en Haut_.

It is sunset of June 18, 1816. Old chief Peguis comes again to the
Hudson's Bay fort on Red River.

"Governor of the gard'ners!" he solemnly warns; "governor of the land
workers and gard'ners, listen! . . ." Not much does he add, after the
fashion of his race. Only this, "_Let me bring my warriors to protect
you_!"

Semple laughs at such fears.

It is sunset of June 19. A soft west wind has set the prairie grass
rippling like a green sea between the fort and the sun hanging low at the
western sky line. A boy on the lookout above one of the bastion towers
of Fort Douglas suddenly shouts, "The half-breeds are coming!"

Semple ascends the tower and looks through a field glass. There is a
line of sixty or seventy horsemen, all armed, not coming to the fort, but
moving diagonally across from the Assiniboine to the Red towards the
colony. And then, north {394} towards the colony, is wildest
clamor,--people in ox carts, people on horseback, people on foot,
stampeding for the shelter of the fort. And up to this moment absolutely
nothing has occurred to create this terror.

"Let twenty men follow me," orders Semple; and he marches out, followed
by twenty-seven armed men.

As they wade through the waist-high hay fields they meet the fleeing
colonists.

"Keep your back to the river!" shouts one colonist, convoying his family.
"They are painted, Governor! Don't let them surround you."

Semple sends back to the fort for a cannon to be trundled out.

Young Lieutenant Holte's gun goes off by mistake. Semple turns on him
with fury and bids him have a care: there is to be no firing.

The half-breeds have turned from t