The Rising of the Red Man | Page 2

dramatically
asked--
"But O, my people, tell me, how can I make manifest to you that these
things shall be as I say? Shall I beg of the Manitou, the Great Spirit, to
give to you a sign that He approves of the words his servant speaketh,
and that these things shall come to pass?"
From the great crowd of half-breeds and Indians there went up a hoarse,
guttural cry for confirmation.
Yes, if the Manitou would give a sign then no one in the land would
doubt, and those who were feeble of heart would take courage.
Riel bowed his head, lifted off his beaver-skin cap, rolled his eyes
about, and by his melodramatic movements claimed the attention of all.

He, however, found, time to shoot a quick glance at the sun. Those
almanac people were wonderfully accurate, but he must hurry up, for in
another minute the eclipse would begin. In a loud voice he cried--
"You have asked for a sign, and it shall be given unto you; but woe
unto those to whom a sign is given and who shall pay no heed to the
same. Their days shall be cut short in the land, and their bodies shall
burn for ever in the pit of everlasting fire. The Great Spirit will darken
the face of the sun for a token, and a shadow, that of the finger of the
Manitou Himself, shall sweep the land."
The knavish fanatic closed his eyes and raised his face heavenwards.
There was a rapturous look on it, and his lips moved. He was calling
upon the Almighty to give them the sign which he obligingly indicated.
The new head of the church was already distinguishing himself. As for
the half-breeds and Indians, they sat around with incredulity and awe
alternately showing upon their faces. It was something new in their
experiences for the Manitou to interest himself personally in their
affairs. A great silence fell upon them; the prophet mumbled
inarticulately and proceeded with his hanky-panky.
Then a great murmur and chorus of "Ough! Ough's!" and
"me-was-sins!" [Footnote: Meaning good or approval.] arose from the
Indians, while many of the half-breeds crossed themselves. Incredulity
changed to belief and fear, and the simple ones raised their voices in
wondering accents to testify to the potency of the "big medicine" that
was being wrought before their eyes. The hand of the Manitou was
slowly but surely passing over the face of the sun and darkening it. The
shadow of that same hand was already creeping up from the east. The
rapt prophet never once opened his eyes, but he knew from the great
hoarse roar of voices around him that the almanac had not erred. And
then the clamour subsided, as the face of the sun was darkened, and the
ominous shadow fell like a chill over them ere passing westward. The
Indians shivered in their blankets and were thrilled by this gratuitous
and wonderful proof of their new leader's intimacy with the Great Spirit.
But what if the Great Spirit should take it into His head to darken the
face of the light-giver for ever! It was a most alarming prospect truly.
Louis David Riel opened his eyes, glanced at the sun, and said--
"The Manitou is pleased to remove His hand and to give us light
again."

Then, as it seemed more quickly than it had been darkened, the
blackness was removed from the sun's face, and the shadow passed.
The murmur and the shout that went up from the wondering throng
must have been as music in the ears of the arrant fraud. He looked
down upon the deluded ones with triumph and a new sense of power.
"The Great Spirit has spoken!" he said with commendable dramatic
brevity.
"Big is the Medicine of Riel!" cried the people. "We are ready to do his
bidding when the time comes."
"The time has come," said Riel.
Never perhaps in the history of impostors from Mahomet to the Mahdi
had an almanac proved so useful.

CHAPTER I
IN THE GREAT LONE LAND
It was the finest old log house on the banks of the mighty
Saskatchewan river, and the kitchen with its old-fashioned furniture
and ample space was the best room in it. On the long winter nights
when the ice cracked on the river, when the stars twinkled coldly in the
blue, and Nature slept under the snows, it was the general
meeting-place of the Douglas household.
Henry Douglas, widower and rancher, was perhaps, one of the
best-to-do men between Battleford and Prince Albert. The number of
his cattle and horses ran into four figures, and no one who knew him
begrudged his success. He was an upright, cheery man, who only aired
his opinions round his own fireside, and