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224 the purport of my visit amongst them, I invited them to sit down, gave them some refreshment, and selected a few trinkets as presents, which they received with much delight. They evinced considerable astonishment at hearing me address them in their own tongue, and from henceforth placed themselves entirely under my control. The men were accompanied by the women; and, after taking their refreshment, I returned with them to their own encampment, where the evening was spent in mutual good humour, each party dancing alternately."

Thus terminated most satisfactorily this day of anxiety. The colonists, upon reading Mr. Robinson's announcement of victory, were disposed to make a little merry with the style of the narrative. The ego came forth, as usual, most prominently. The blast of the trumpet was unmistakeably clear. Though confessing to a little prudent concealment, he acknowledged no fear, though careful to speak of his friends' fright. He was simply "rather anxious as to the result." Then, too, he claims all credit for the negotiations. Giving no heed to the action of his own dark companions who had brought the warlike tribe in peace to his hiding-place, he asserts his own part as pacificator. As it was well known that the Natives of one tribe found much difficulty in understanding others, the colonists were amused at the assumed facility of Mr. Robinson's converse with these dreaded strangers, and professed to be as much astonished as the warriors themselves at this strange tongue development.

But in spite of the fun and criticism, the strong fact was apparent. The dangerous people were secured.

The capture of this Big River, or Ouse River tribe, was by far the grandest feature of the war, and the crowning glory of Mr. Robinson's efforts. Having learned the story from various sources, I would attempt a description of this bloodless victory.

The leader had ventured under the shadow of the Frenchman's Cap, whose grim cone rose five thousand feet in the uninhabited western interior. There, at last, appeared the tribe of which they were in search. It was a terrible hour,—one in which a man lives years in minutes. That tribe was the terror of the colony, the "Black Douglas" of Bush households. Confident in their strength, the Natives stayed for the approach of the strangers. Mr. Robinson was accompanied by his brave stripling of a son, by M'Geary, Stanfield, and a Hawaiian