head now bobbing up from the grass, and now its tail.

"Oui, Monsieur," returned Marie's father, "Monsieur Scott
is a very great favourite with our family. We are under
an obligation to him that it will be difficult for us
ever to repay."

"Whence comes this benefactor," queried M. Riel, with
an ugly sneer, "and how has he placed you under such
obligation?" Then, reflecting that he was showing a
bitterness respecting the young man which he could just
then neither explain nor justify, he said:

"Mais, pardonnez moi. Think me not rude for asking these
questions. When pretty eyes are employed to see, and
pretty lips to tell of, game for one sportsman in preference
to another, the neglected one may be excused for seeking
to know in what way fortune has been kind with his rival."

"Shall I tell the whole story, Marie?" enquired the
_pere_, "or will you do so?"

"O I know that you will not leave anything out that can
show, the bravery of Mr. Scott, so I shall leave you to
tell it," replied the girl.

"Well, last spring, Marie was spending some days with
her aunt, a few miles up Red River. It was the flood
time, and as you remember the river was swollen to a
point higher than it had ever reached within the memory
of any body in the settlement. Marie is venturesome, and
since a child has shown a keen delight in going upon
boats, or paddling a canoe; so one day, during the visit
which I have mentioned, she got into a birch that swung
in a little pond formed behind her uncle's premises by
the over-flowing of the stream's channel. Untying the
canoe, she seized the blade and began to paddle about in
the lazy water. Presently she reached the eddies, which,
since a child, she has always called the 'rings of the
water-witches,' wherever she learned that term. Her
cousin, Violette, was standing in the doorway, as she
saw Marie move off, and she cried out to her to beware
of the eddies; but my daughter, wayward and reckless, as
it is her habit to be in such matters, merely replied
with a laugh; and then, as the canoe began to turn round
and round in the gurgling circles, she cried out, 'I am
in the rings of the water-witches. C'est bon! bon! C'est
magnifique! O I wish you were with me, Violette, ma chere.
It is so delightful to go round and round.' A little way
beyond, not more than twice the canoe's length, rushed
by, roaring, the full tide of the river. 'Beware, Marie,
beware, for the love of heaven, of the river. If you