As we sat there, we heard noises, not very harmonious, interrupting the
song of the salmon-fishers. We got up to see. A score of river-drivers
were marching down through the village, mocking the fishers and making
wild mirth. The Indians took little notice, but the half-breeds and white
fishers were restless.
"There will be trouble here one day," said Mrs. Falchion.
"A free fight which will clear the air," I said.
"I should like to see it--it would be picturesque, at least," she added
cheerfully; "for I suppose no lives would be lost."
"One cannot tell," I answered; "lives do not count so much in new lands."
"Killing is hateful, but I like to see courage."
And she did see it.
CHAPTER XVII
RIDING THE REEFS
The next afternoon Roscoe was sitting on the coping deep in thought, when
Ruth rode up with her father, dismounted, and came upon him so quietly
that he did not hear her. I was standing in the trees a little distance
away.
She spoke to him once, but he did not seem to hear. She touched his arm.
He got to his feet.
"You were so engaged that you did not hear me," she said.
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