Among this band was a son of the principal sachem of the Algonquins, who was acknowledged heir apparent to his dad’s vermin, and who assumed the airs of a man of great consequence, in virtue of his prospective dignity.  The father bore a respectable character; the son was a sot.  In consideration of his furs, however, I paid him some little attentions, though much against my inclination.  He came one evening reeling into our hut, more than “half-seas over,” having been thus far advanced on his voyage to Elysium through the insinuating influences of my opponent’s “fire-water;” and seating himself on a three-legged stool, close to the fire-place, he soon began to nod; then, losing his equilibrium, ultimately fell at full length on the floor.  I could not suppress a smile at sight of his copper highness’s prostrate position, when springing up in a furious passion, he seized an axe, and proceeded to demolish the seat.  I wrested the axe from his grasp, and reprimanded him sharply for his insolence.  This exasperated him to the utmost:  he swore I was in league with the stool to insult him; but that he should be revenged on us both before morning.  Uttering these menaces, he set out for the camp.

It so happened that a strong party of men arrived on that evening from Fort Coulonge with supplies, and were huddled together with myself and my men, all under the same roof.  The greater part of them lay down to rest; but a few still continued the vigil, indulging in the favourite luxury of smoking, and chatting about the enjoyments of “Mont-rial,”—­when, all of a sudden, the dread-inspiring war-whoop echoed through our little hut; the next instant the door flew off its wooden hinges, and fell with a crash on the floor, exhibiting to view the person of the Indian, standing on the threshold, holding a double-barrelled gun in his hand, with blackened face and his eyes flashing fire.

The men had now all started to their feet, as well as myself.  The moment the eyes of the savage fell upon me, in the midst of the crowd, he brought the piece to bear upon me, or at least attempted to do so; but I sprang upon him with a bound, and beat the muzzle down; instantly the discharge followed:  we then struggled for the possession of the gun, which I quickly wrested from his grasp; and, applying the butt end of it “gently” to his ear, laid him sprawling at my feet.

On the discharge of the gun, I heard a voice calling out, “Mon Dieu!” and another, in a plaintive tone, exclaiming, “Ah mon garcon!” This was all I heard distinctly, when every voice joined in one cry, “Tueons le crapaud;” and presently the wretched Indian was kicked and cuffed by as many as could press round him.  I called on them to desist—­as well have spoken to the wind!—­not a soul heeded my orders.  At length one of them observed, “What occasion is there for more beating of him—­the black dog is dead enough.”

I looked about for the person whom I supposed to have been wounded, in vain—­the whole mass was in motion.  As soon as the tumult had subsided, however, I was glad to find that no one had received any serious injury; the ball had grazed the thigh of a youth (who had arrived from Montreal on a visit to his father), and lodged in a log of the building.