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.
