jealousies, that had long been cherished in silence, broke
irresistibly forth. Angry words and fierce looks were followed by the
drawing of knives. Suddenly a young man rushed upon a comrade and
buried his knife in his heart. The piercing death-cry was followed by
the vengeful yell of the relatives of the murdered man, as they sprang
upon the murderer. Others flew to the rescue, and the drunken _melee_
became general. Blood began to flow freely, and there is no doubt that
many lives would have been sacrificed had not the combatants been too
much intoxicated to fight with vigour. Many of them fell prostrate and
helpless on attempting to rise. Others dealt their blows at random,
staggering and falling one upon another, until they lay in a heap,
shrieking, biting, tearing, and stabbing--a bloody struggling mass,
which told more eloquently than tongue can tell, that, deep and low
though savage human nature has fallen in sin and misery, there is a
depth profounder still, to which even those who seem to be the lowest
may be precipitated by the fatal power of strong drink.

And now Gibault Noir felt that it was time for him to draw near to the
horrible scene, in order to be ready, when the moment should arrive, to
release the prisoners, or to protect them in the event of any of the
drunken crew being tempted to a premature slaughter.

The women were now actively interfering to prevent further bloodshed.
Most of the Indians were already dead drunk. Only a few, whose powers
of endurance were greater than those of their comrades, continued to
shout their war-songs. When these were down, the women rushed at the
spirits like wolves. Even the little children came out from the tents
and got their share. It was a terrible scene, such as has, alas! been
often enacted before in the wilds of the Far West, and, doubtless, shall
be enacted again, unless (so-called) Christian traders give up
fire-water as an article of traffic.

In a very short space of time the women were as helpless as their
masters. Then Gibault cut the thongs that bound his comrades, and set
them free!

"Thanks, thanks to the Almighty," said Bertram earnestly, when his bonds
were cut. "I had thought that my days were numbered; that it was to be
my sad fate to fill a grave here in the wilderness. But His hand is
indeed mighty to save. And thanks be to you, good Gibault. Under God,
we owe our lives to you."

Bertram attempted to seize Gibault's hand a