Proceeding onwards, we passed the long narrows and the Wyampam banditti, for the first time, without any trouble. It was, however, rumoured here that we were to be attacked in passing the forks; that the Indians had assembled there in hostile array. And here Mr. Clarke would fain have avoided the encounter; he made several attempts, but in vain, to engage a guide to lead him through the interior by a back path. At the Umatallow, the small party bound for the Snake country left us, and departed in the direction of the Blue Mountains. On reaching the Walla Walla, about six miles from the forks, Tummeatapam made signs for us to go on shore. Here the good old Sachem appeared much agitated, and sat for some time without uttering a single word. At last he broke silence, and exclaimed—“White men! white men!” then pointing to a dark cloud of dust rising near the forks, said, “There they are—there they are!” Then taking up a handful of sand and throwing it in the air, exclaimed again—“They are as numerous as the grains of sand; the Indians have bad hearts: I am hoarse with speaking {249} to them; but they will not listen to me.” He advised us earnestly to turn back; but seeing us determined to ascend the river, he asked leave to embark and accompany us: but this we refused. We took him, however, to one of our boats, and showed him a brass four-pounder, some hand-grenades, and skyrockets; then giving him some tobacco to smoke, we embarked, and crossing over to the right-hand side, pushed on along shore; the Indians being all on the left bank. As we advanced, the Indians, mounted in numerous squadrons, kept flying backwards and forwards, seemingly bent on some great design. We paddled on, however, without a moment’s delay, anxious to get to a certain point a little beyond the forks, but on the opposite side of the river, which is here nearly a mile broad. When we came just opposite to the Indians, they all formed into one mass, and could not have been less than two thousand, with a fleet of one hundred and seventy-four canoes along the beach. Their appearance was certainly very imposing and formidable; and the noise of the war-dance and war-song, mingled with whooping and yelling, was terrific. We in the mean time reached the wished-for point, landed, took our stand, fortified our camp, and awaited the threatened attack. This took place in the afternoon, about two hours before sunset. All at once the canoes were launched, and we beheld fifty-seven of them filled with people making for our camp. All was suspense. Every man squatted down with his gun in his hand, and his finger on the trigger. As {250} the fleet approached our anxiety increased, till Mr. Stuart, who kept eyeing them all the time with a spy-glass, called out—“There is nothing to fear; there are women and children in the canoes.” This was glad news to some of our party, who were more intent on saying their prayers than on fighting. By this time