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.
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