Michel, the hunter, had one of his "ugly fits" upon him;--this was
known throughout the camps. The women only shrugged their shoulders,
and kept clear of his lodge. The men paid him but little attention,
even when he skulked in for awhile after dark to smoke his pipe by
their camp fire. But on this morning neither Michel nor his wife had
been seen outside their camp; only one or two of the children had
turned out at a late hour and looked wistfully about, as if longing
for someone to give them food and other attention.
Suddenly, from within the lodge a shot was heard, and a terrible
muffled sound, which none heard without a shudder. Then came the
shrieks of the terrified children, who ran out of the lodge towards
their neighbours. By this time all the Indians were aware that
something horrible had occurred in Michel's camp, and from every
lodge, far and near, they hurried out with looks of dread and
inquiry. The farthest lodge was not more than sixty yards from that
of Michel, and the nearest was hardly a dozen yards removed, although
a little further back from the edge of the bank. When the first man
entered the lodge it could not have been more than a few seconds
after the firing of the fatal shot, for Michel was still standing,
gun in hand, and his poor wife sighing forth the last few
breathings of her sad and troubled life. She had kept her word, and
met her death without one cry or expostulation! It might have been
heard from far, that groan of horror and dismay which sprung
spontaneous from the one first witnessing the ghastly scene, and then
from the whole of the assembled Indians.
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