A native of Frazer’s Lake had murdered one of the Company’s servants, and, strange to say, no steps were taken to punish him; he concealed himself some time, and finding he had nothing to apprehend, returned to his village.  At length he was led by his evil genius to visit Stuart’s Lake, then under the command of a Douglas.  Douglas heard of his being in the village, and though he had but a weak garrison, determined that the blood of the white man should not be unavenged.  The opportunity was favourable, the Indians of the village were out on a hunting excursion, the murderer was nearly alone.  He proceeded to the camp accompanied by two of his men, and executed justice[1] on the murderer.  On their return in the evening, the Indians learned what had happened, and enraged, determined to retaliate.  Aware, however, that Douglas was on his guard, that the gates were shut and could not be forced, they resolved to employ Indian stratagem.

    [1] “Wild justice,”—­Bacon.

The old chief accordingly proceeded to the Fort alone, and knocking at the gate desired to be admitted, which was granted.  He immediately stated the object of his visit, saying that a deed had been done in the village which subjected himself and his people to a heavy responsibility to the relatives of the dead; that he feared the consequences, and hoped that a present would be made to satisfy them; and continuing to converse thus calmly, Mr. Douglas was led to believe that the matter could easily be arranged.  Another knock was now heard at the gate:  “It is my brother,” said the chief, “you may open the gate; he told me he intended to come and hear what you had to say on this business.”

The gate was opened, and in rushed the whole Nekasly tribe, the chief’s brother at their head; and the men of the Fort were overpowered ere they had time to stand on their defence.  Douglas, however, seized a wall-piece that was mounted in the hall, and was about to discharge it on the crowd that was pouring in upon him, when the chief seized him by the arms, and held him fast.  For an instant his life was in the utmost peril.  Surrounded by thirty or forty Indians, their knives drawn, and brandishing them over his head with frantic gestures, and calling out to the chief, “Shall we strike? shall we strike?”

The chief hesitated; and at this critical moment the interpreter’s wife[1] stepped forward, and by her presence of mind saved him and the establishment.

[1] This woman is the daughter of Mr. James MacDougal, a gentleman who had a chief hand in the settlement of the district.  He served the Company for a period of thirty-five years, enduring all the hardships that were in his time inseparable from an Indian trader’s life; and was dismissed from their service, in old age, without a pension, to starve on such little savings as he had effected out of his salary.  He is still alive (1841), struggling with adversity.

Observing one of the inferior chiefs, who had always