ings
below the floating bridge. The captain had been liberated, and waved his
hand with a cheer as I crossed the bridge. The gate of the fort stood
open, a sentry was leaning lazily against the wall, a portion of which
leant in turn against nothing. The whole exterior of the place looked old
and dirty. The muzzles of one or two guns protruding through the
embrasures in the flanking bastions failed even to convey the idea
of-fort or fortress to the mind of the beholder.

Returning from the east or St. Boniface side of the Red River, I was
conducted by my companion into the fort. His private residence was
situated within the walls, and to it we proceeded. Upon entering the gate
I took in at a glance the surroundings-ranged in a semi-circle with their
muzzles all pointing towards the entrance, stood some six or eight
field-pieces; on each side and in front were bare looking, white-washed
buildings. The ground and the houses looked equally dirty, and the whole
aspect of the place was desolate and ruinous.

A few ragged-looking dusky men with rusty firelocks, and still more
rusty bayonets, stood lounging about. We drove through without stopping,
and drew up at the door of my companion's house, which was situated at
the rear of the buildings I have spoken of. From the two flag-staffs flew
two flags, one-the Union Jack in shreds and tatters, the other a
well-kept bit of bunting having the fleur-de-lis and a shamrock on a
white field. Once in the house, my companion asked me if I would see Mr.
Riel.

"To call on him, certainly not," was my reply.

"But if he calls on you?"

"Then I will see him," replied I.

The gentleman who had spoken thus soon left the room. There stood in the
centre of the apartment a small billiard table, I took up a cue and
commenced a game with the only other occupant of the room-the same
individual who had on the previous evening acted as messenger to the
Indian Settlement. We had played some half a dozen strokes when the door
opened, and my friend returned. Following him closely came a short stout
man with a large head, a sallow, puffy face, a sharp, restless,
intelligent eye, a square-cut massive forehead overhung by a mass of long
and thickly clustering hair, and marked with well-cut eyebrows--altogether,
a remarkable-looking face, all the more so, perhaps, because it was to be
seen in a land where such things are rare sights.

This was M. Louis Riel, the head and front of the Red River Rebel