As I neared the village I saw that there were
fewer lights--torches and fires--than usual on the river. I noticed also
that there were very few fishers on the banks or in the river. But still
the village seemed noisy, and, although it was dusk, I could make out
much stir in the one street along which the cottages and huts ambled for
nearly a mile.
All at once it came to me strongly that the friction between the two
villages had consummated in the foreman's injury, and was here coming to
a painful crisis. My suspicions had good grounds. As I hurried on I saw
that the lights usually set on the banks of the river were scattered
through the town. Bonfires were being lighted, and torches were flaring
in front of the Indian huts. Coming closer, I saw excited groups of
Indians, half-breeds, and white men moving here and there; and then, all
at once, there came a cry--a kind of roar--from farther up the village,
and the men gathered themselves together, seizing guns, sticks, irons,
and other weapons, and ran up the street. I understood. I was moderately
swift of foot those days. I came quickly after them, and passed them.
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