Pepin had not heard it, but then he had heard some awkward things about Bastien Lagrange, and he immediately proceeded to let him know that he was acquainted with them.  The soldiers, with their great guns, were now swarming up the Saskatchewan, and it was only a matter of a few weeks before Poundmaker and Big Bear would be suing for mercy.  This and more of a disquieting nature did the dwarf tell the unstable one, so that by the time he had finished there was no hesitation in Bastien’s mind as to which side he must once and for all definitely espouse.  So he told of the capture of the Douglas party by Poundmaker and of the fight at Cut-Knife.  Then he called Pepin’s attention to the packet he had dropped, and explained how it had been entrusted to him.

The manikin examined it in silence.  A strange look of intelligence came into his face.  He shot a half-shy, suspicious glance at the breed, but that gentleman, with an awe-stricken expression, was watching Antoine, as with sinister design that intelligent animal was piling up quite a collection of boots, moccasins, and odds and ends in a corner preparatory to having a grand revenge for the trick that had been played upon him.  He would chew up every scrap of that leather and buckskin if he wore his teeth out in the attempt The old lady, fortunately for him, had left the room.

Pepin opened the packet, and the sight of that plain little gold brooch and the bunch of prairie forget-me-nots moved him strangely.  After all, his heart was not adamant where youth and beauty were concerned—­he only realised the immense gulf that was fixed between a man of his great parts and graces and the average female.

He abruptly ordered Bastien into the summer kitchen to look for his mother and get something to eat, and then, when he realised he had the room to himself, he literally let himself go.  He sprang to his feet, and, waving the flowers and the brooch over his head, advanced a few paces into the middle of the room, struck a melodramatic attitude, and, with one hand pressed to his heart, carried Dorothy’s tokens to his lips.

Then he turned and observed Antoine.  This somewhat absent-minded follower had already begun operations on his little pile; but he had been so taken aback by the unwonted jubilation of his master, that he stopped work to gaze upon him in astonishment, and quite forgot to remove the half-torn moccasin from his mouth.  When he saw he was caught red-handed, he dropped the spoil as he had dropped the hot potato, and crouched apprehensively.  His master made a fierce rush at him.

“What ho!  Antoine, you pig, you!” he cried; “and so you would have revenge, you chuckle-pate!” And then he punched Antoine’s head.

Just at that moment his mother and Bastien re-entered the room; the former set Lagrange down at a small table in a far corner with some food before him.  The dwarf lounged towards the fire-place with an assumed air of indifference and boredom, and, leaning against the chimney-piece, stroked his black moustache.