ised bandages, set the leg directly, and in a little while we
got to the shore on a hastily constructed raft. After seeing the foreman
safely cared for, and giving Mr. Devlin's manager the facts of the
occurrence, more than sated with my morning's experience, I climbed the
mountain side, and took refuge from the heat in the coolness of Roscoe's
rooms.

In the afternoon I received a note from Mrs. Falchion, saying that on
the following day she would start for the coast; that her luggage
would be taken to Sunburst at once; and that, her engagement with me
fulfilled, she would spend a night there, not returning again to the
hills. I was preparing for my own departure, and was kept very busy
until evening. Then I went quickly down into the valley,--for I was
late,--and trudged eagerly on to Sunburst. 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. As
I did so I inquired of one or two fishers what was the trouble.

They told me, as I had guessed, that they expected an attack on the
village by the mill-hands and river-drivers of Viking.

The situation was critical. I could foresee a catastrophe which would
for ever unsettle the two towns, and give the valley an unenviable
reputation. I was certain that, if Roscoe or Mr. Devlin were present, a
prohibitive influence could be brought to bear; that some one of strong
will could stand, as it were, in the gap betwe