It suddenly occurred to Dorothy that this was the Pepin Quesnelle of whom and of whose tame bear Rory was wont to tell tales.  Dorothy noticed that Katie had a brief whispered conference with the truculent Pepin before entering.  The result of it was somewhat unexpected; the half-breed girl took Dorothy by the arm and led her into a low room, which was scrupulously clean, at the end of the passage.  There was no one in it.  Katie seemed strangely nervous as she shut the door, and the girl wondered what was about to happen.  Then the half-breed turned suddenly and looked into her eyes, at the same time placing one hand upon her wrist.

“Listen,” she said, “I thought I loved you, but you have made me mad—­so mad this night!  Now tell me true—­verite sans peur—­you shall—­you must tell me—­do you love Pierre?”

If it had not been for the tragic light in the poor girl’s eyes, Dorothy would have laughed in her face at the bare idea.  As it was, she answered in such an emphatic way that Katie had no more doubts on that point.  Then Dorothy asked the latter to send Pierre to her and to be herself present at the interview.

Katie at first demurred.  She was afraid that the interview might prove too much for the susceptible frail one.  But she brought him in, and when Dorothy had spoken a few words to him, the fickle swain was only too anxious to make it up with his real love.  This satisfactory part of the programme completed, Katie packed him off into the next room, and then, with the emotional and demonstrative nature of her people, literally grovelled in the dust before Dorothy.  She stooped and kissed her moccasined feet, and called on the girl to forgive her for her treacherous conduct But Dorothy raised her from the ground and comforted her as best she could.  To her she was as a child, although perhaps her passion was a revelation that as yet she but imperfectly comprehended.  But Katie was to prove the sincerity of her regret in a practical fashion.

“Where are your friends?” she asked.  “Tell me everything—­yes, you can trust me.  By the Blessed Virgin, I swear I will serve you faithfully!” She raised her great dark tear-stained eyes to Dorothy’s.

The girl instinctively felt that Katie was to be trusted.  The only question was, could she count upon her discretion?  She felt that she could do that also; she knew that in a matter of intrigue the dusky metis have no equals.  The chances were that the others had reached the Fort; if so, no more harm could be done.  Briefly she told Katie about those who had started out with her to steal through the rebel lines to the English garrison.

“If Jacques and the women went in the direction you say,” said Katie, “the chances are they have got to the Fort.  It matters not about the Police and Rory—­they can look after themselves.  I doubt, however, if your father and the sergeant have got through.  You will stay in this house while I go and see.  I have many friends among our people; the hearts of some of them not being entirely with Riel, they will help me.  I shall take Pierre.  Pepin and his mother you need not fear—­they are not of the rebels; they have lived too long at Medicine Hat with the whites.”