PROLOGUE

The 16th of March, 1885, was a charming day, and Louis David Riel, fanatic and rebellion-maker, was addressing a great general meeting of the half-breeds and Indians near Batoche on the Saskatchewan river in British North America.  There were representatives from nearly every tribe; Poundmaker and his Stonies, who were always spoiling for trouble, being particularly well represented.  Round the arch malcontent were a score of other harpies almost as wicked if less dangerous than himself.  Among them were Gabriel Dumont, Jackson, Maxime, Garnot and Lepine.  Riel’s emissaries had been at work for months, and as the time was now ripe for a rising he had called them together to decide upon some definite course of action.

The weather was comparatively mild, and the Indians sat around on the snow that before many days was to disappear before the sudden spring thaw.  Their red, white, and grey blankets against the dull-hued tepees [Footnote:  Wigwams.] and the white wintry landscape, gave colour and relief to the scene.  Two o’clock in the afternoon and the sun shone brightly down as he always does in these latitudes.  Riel knew exactly how long it would continue to shine, for had not the almanac told him and all the world—­with the exception of the ignorant half-breeds and Indians whom he was addressing—­that there was to be an eclipse that day.  The arch rebel knew how strongly dramatic effect appealed to his audience, so he was prepared to indulge them to the full in this respect, and turn the matter to account.  Being an educated man there was a good deal of method in his madness.

The red-bearded, self-constituted prophet of the metis [Footnote:  Half-breeds.] stood on a Red River cart and spun out his pleasant prognostications concerning that happy coming era in which unlimited food, tobacco and fire-water would make merry the hearts of all from the Missouri in the south, to the Kissaskatchewan in the north, if only they would do as he told them.  As for Pere Andre and his fulminations against him, what did they want with the Church of Rome!—­he, Louis David Riel, was going to start a church of his own!  Yes, St. Peter had appeared to him in a vision, and told him that the Popes had been on the wrong tack long enough, and that he—­Riel—­was to be the new head of all things spiritual and temporal.  He promised them a good all-round time when this came about, as it certainly would before long.

He wiped the perspiration from his forehead, and looked anxiously at the sun.  What if, after all, the compilers of the almanac, or he himself, had made a mistake, and he had called this his most vital meeting on the wrong day?  The bare idea was too terrible.  But, no, his keen eyes detected a dark line on the outer edge of the great orb, and he knew that the modern astrologers had not erred.  His grand opportunity had come, and he must seize it.  He stretched out his hands and dramatically asked—­