rebel and murderer, Louis Riel, in later years, sent
the blood boiling through the veins of Western Canada.
The young man stayed only for a few moments, and Riel
observed that everybody in the house treated him as if
in some way he had been the benefactor of all. When he
arose to go, young Jean, who knew of every widgeon in
the mere beyond the cottonwood grove, and where the last
flock of quail had been seen to alight, followed him out
the door, and very secretly communicated his knowledge.
Marie had seen a large flock of turkeys upon the prairie
a few moments walk south of the poplar grove, and perhaps
they had not yet gone away.

"When did you see them, ma chere mademoiselle Marie?
enquired Scott. You know turkeys do not settle down like
immigrants in one spot, and wait till we inhabitants of
the plains come out and shoot them. Was it last week, or
only the day before yesterday that you saw them?" There
was a very merry twinkle in his eye as he went on with
this banter. Marie affected to pout, but she answered.

"This morning, while the dew was shining upon the grass,
and you, I doubt not, were sleeping soundly, I was abroad
on the plains for the cows. It was then I saw them. I am
glad, however, that you have pointed out the difference
between turkeys and immigrants. I did not know it before."
He handed her a tiger lily which he had plucked on the
way, saying,

"There, for your valuable information, I give you that.
Next time I come, if you are able to tell me where I can
find several flocks, I shall bring you some coppers." With
a world of mischief in his eyes, he disappeared, and Mary,
in spite of herself, could not conceal from everybody in
the house a quick little sigh at his departure.

"It seems to me this Monsieur Scott is a great favourite
with your folk, Monsieur?" Said M. Riel, when the young
man had left the cottage. "Now I came with my friend also
for sport, but no pretty eyes had seen any flocks to
reserve for me." And he gave a somewhat sneering glance
at poor Marie, who was pretending to be engaged in
examining the petals of the tiger-lilly, although she
was all the while thinking of the mischievous, manly,
sunny-hearted lad who had given it to her. M. Riel's
words and the sneer were lost, so far as she was concerned.
Her ears were where her heart was, out on the plain beyond
the cottonwood, where she could see the tall, straight,
lithe figure of young Scott, with his dog at his heels,
its