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.