CHAPTER XVI.
A SILENT TRIBE.
It was sunset on the bluffs and valleys of the Columbia.

Through the tall, dark pines and firs the red west glowed like the lights in an oriel or mullioned window.

The air was voiceless.

The Columbia rolled silently in the shadows with a shimmering of crimson on its deep middle tides.

The long, brown boats of the salmon-fishers sat motionless on the tide.