MENOTAH

A Tale of the Riel Rebellion

By

ERNEST G. HENHAM

LONDON

HUTCHINSON & CO

MDCCCXCVII

CONTENTS

Part I—THE HEART'S JOY

CHAPTER I—THE FOREST
CHAPTER II—MENOTAH—HEART THAT KNOWS NOT SORROW
CHAPTER III—THE BUDDING OF A PASSION
CHAPTER IV—THE FORT
CHAPTER V—THE FIGHT
CHAPTER VI—THE BREAKING OF THE DAWN

Part II—THE HEART'S GRIEF

CHAPTER I—THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE
CHAPTER II—THE COMING OF DAVE
CHAPTER III—THE RIVALS
CHAPTER IV—WHITE WINS
CHAPTER V—PACTOLUS
CHAPTER VI—DENTON'S DESCENT
CHAPTER VII—AN INCIDENT
CHAPTER VIII—THE PIERIAN SPRING
CHAPTER IX—THE LAUGH THAT DIED

Part III—THE HEART'S PEACE

CHAPTER I—LAMONT
CHAPTER II—THE LIFE-OBJECT
CHAPTER III—RESURRECTION
CHAPTER IV—CHARACTER
CHAPTER V—THE DEAD HEART
CHAPTER VI—DURING THE DAY
CHAPTER VII—DISCOVERY
CHAPTER VIII—RETRIBUTION
CHAPTER IX—DARKNESS
CHAPTER X—McAULIFFE'S RESOLUTION
CHAPTER XI—THE HEART'S PEACE

Glossary

PREFATORY NOTE

In the following story of the Canadian North-West Rebellion, Louis Riel—leader of a hopeless enterprise—has not been introduced as an active character. He was himself so colourless, so commonplace, that a true picture must have been uninteresting, while a fictitious drawing would have been unsatisfactory and out of place with the plan of this story. He was much like his brother, who lives to-day on an unpretentious farm in the Red River Valley, dull-witted, heavy-featured and obtuse—in fact, a French half-breed of the ordinary stamp.

So the plot of this work tends more towards the study of passion, and dwells upon what was undoubtedly one of the principal reasons for the revolt, viz., the unscrupulous treatment of the Indian women by the white invaders. The 'Governor and Company of Adventurers of England trading into Hudson's Bay,' generally and more commonly known by the simpler title of the 'Hudson's Bay Company,' had well paved the way for this miserable laxity in matters of morality.

The mighty shadow which looms behind this tale of the Rebellion is that of the loyal Archbishop Taché. He it was, though the fact has not been recognised generally, who, almost unaided, crushed the rising spirit of independence in half-breeds and Indians, and brought the insurrection to a close. Surely it is not too late to do justice to the memory of this truly unselfish prelate.

The writer was present in the riverside town of St Boniface on a certain still evening during the August of 1894. There all the houses, and even the trees that lined the streets, were heavily draped in black; men and women passed slowly with heads uncovered and attitude of grief; it was as though each had lost his or her nearest and dearest relative. There was not a sound along that little town of mourning.

For the Archbishop lay dead in the