The trio soon reached the opposite side of the river.
On landing, they freshly primed their rifles and pistols. A path
winding for about a hundred yards among rocks and crags, led to
the village. No notice seemed to be taken of their approach. Not
a solitary being, man, woman, or child, greeted them.
The very dogs, those noisy pests of an Indian town, kept silence.
On entering the village, a boy made his appearance, and pointed
to a house of larger dimensions than the rest. They had to stoop
to enter it; as soon as they had passed the threshold, the narrow
passage behind them was filled up by a sudden rush of Indians,
who had before kept out of sight.
M'Kenzie and his companions found themselves in a rude chamber of
about twenty-five feet long and twenty wide. A bright fire was
blazing at one end, near which sat the chief, about sixty years
old. A large number of Indians, wrapped in buffalo robes, were
squatted in rows, three deep, forming a semicircle round three
sides of the room. A single glance around sufficed to show them
the grim and dangerous assembly into which they had intruded, and
that all retreat was cut off by the mass which blocked up the
entrance.
The chief pointed to the vacant side of the room opposite to the
door, and motioned for them to take their seats. They complied. A
dead pause ensued. The grim warriors around sat like statues;
each muffled in his robe, with his fierce eyes bent on the
intruders. The latter felt they were in a perilous predicament.
"Keep your eyes on the chief while I am addressing him," said
M'Kenzie to his companions. "Should he give any sign to his band,
shoot him, and make for the door."
M'Kenzie advanced, and offered the pipe of peace to the chief,
but it was refused. He then made a regular speech, explaining the
object of their visit, and proposing to give in exchange for the
rifle two blankets, an axe, some beads and tobacco.
When he had done, the chief rose, began to address him in a low
voice, but soon became loud and violent, and ended by working
himself up into a furious passion. He upbraided the white men for
their sordid conduct in passing and repassing through their
neighborhood, without giving them a blanket or any other article
of goods, merely because they had no furs to barter in exchange,
and he alluded, with menaces of vengeance, to the death of the
Indian killed by the whites in the skirmish at the falls.
Matters were verging to a crisis. It was evident the surrounding
savages were only waiting a signal from the chief to spring upon
their prey. M'Kenzie and his companions had gradually risen on
their feet during the speech, and had brought their rifles to a
horizontal position, the barrels resting in their left hands; the
muzzle of M'Kenzie's piece was within three feet of the speaker's
heart. They cocked their rifles; the click of the locks for a
moment suffused the dark cheek of the savage, and there was a
pause. They coolly, but promptly, advanced to the door; the
Indians fell back in awe, and suffered them to pass. The sun was
just setting, as they emerged from this dangerous den. They took
the precaution to keep along the tops of the rocks as much as
possible on their way back to the canoe, and reached their camp
in safety, congratulating themselves on their escape, and feeling
no desire to make a second visit to the grim warriors of Wish-
ram.
M'Kenzie and his party resumed their journey the next morning. At
some distance above the falls of the Columbia, they observed two
bark canoes, filled with white men, coming down the river, to the
full chant of a set of Canadian voyageurs. A parley ensued. It
was a detachment of Northwesters, under the command of Mr. John
George M'Tavish, bound, full of song and spirit, to the mouth of
the Columbia, to await the arrival of the Isaac Todd.
Mr. M'Kenzie and M'Tavish came to a halt, and landing, encamped
for the night. The voyageurs of either party hailed each other as
brothers, and old "comrades," and they mingled together as if
united by one common interest, instead of belonging to rival
companies, and trading under hostile flags.
In the morning they proceeded on their different ways, in style
corresponding to their different fortunes: the one toiling
painfully against the stream, the other sweeping down gayly with
the Current.
M'Kenzie arrived safely at his deserted post on the Shahaptan,
but found, to his chagrin, that his caches had been discovered
and rifled by the Indians. Here was a dilemma, for on the stolen
goods he had depended to purchase horses of the Indians. He sent
out men in all directions to endeavor to discover the thieves,
and despatched Mr. Reed to the posts of Messrs. Clarke and David
Stuart, with the letters of Mr. M'Dougal.
The resolution announced in these letters, to break up and depart
from Astoria, was condemned by both Clarke and Stuart. These two
gentlemen had been very successful at their posts, and considered
it rash and pusillanimous to abandon, on the first difficulty, an
enterprise of such great cost and ample promise. They made no
arrangements, therefore, for leaving the country, but acted with
a view to the maintenance of their new and prosperous
establishments.
The regular time approached, when the partners of the interior -
posts were to rendezvous at the mouth of the Wallah-Wallah, on
their way to Astoria, with the peltries they had collected.
