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.
