to shoot him." He turned to Riel. "Tell
him to put down that gun!"

But Riel had the dignity of his position to maintain
before the crowd, and although he would not meet the
black, bead-like eyes of the dwarf, with no little bluster,
he said--

"This man is a spy, and he must die. He is of the hated
English, and it is the will of the Lord that His people,
the metis, inherit the land."

"And I say, Louis Riel, that it is the will of the Lord
that this man shall not die!" reiterated the dwarf,
emphasising his words with a flourish of his stick.

Then an uncanny thing happened that to this day the metis
speak about with bated breath, and the Indians are afraid
to mention at all. Heinault, who during the wrangle had
concluded that his quarry was about to slip through his
hands, took the opportunity of raising his gun to the
shoulder. But ere he could pull the trigger there was
the whistle of a bullet, and he fell dead in the snow.
Then, somewhere from the wooded bluffs--for the echoes
deceived one--there came the distant ring of a rifle.

The perspiration was standing in beads on Pasmore's
forehead, for he would have been more than human had not
the strain of the terrible ordeal told upon him. From
a dogged abandonment to his fate, a ray of hope lit up
the darkness that seemed to have closed over him. It
filtered through his being, but he feared to let it grow,
knowing the bitterness of hope's extinction. But the blue
through the pines seemed more beautiful, and the snow on
the crest of the ridge scintillated more cheerily.

As the would-be executioner fell, something like a moan
of consternation ran through the crowd. The dwarf was
the only one who seemed to take the tragedy as a matter
of course. He was quick to seize the opportunity.

"It is as the Lord has willed," he said simply, pointing
to the body.

But Riel, visibly taken aback by this sudden _contretemps_,
knew only too well that his cause and influence would be
imperilled if he allowed this manikin, of whom his people
stood so much in awe, to get the better of him; and he
was too quick-witted not to know exactly what to do. He
turned to his officers, and immediately a number of breeds
started out to scour the bluffs. Then he called upon five
breeds and Indians by name to step forward, and to see
that their rifles were charged. Pepin waited quietly
until his arrangements were completed, and then, looking
round upon the crowd with his dark eyes, a