UP STEEAM: ON THE RED RIVER. 385 



towns, clad in their coats of skins, and astonishing 

 strangers by their wild and primitive appearance. 



I was sitting on a sofa in a corner of the ladies' 

 cabin, with Louise by my side, and talking over with 

 her these and other recollections of more or less inter- 

 est. The tea hour was long past, and the cabins 

 were lighted up. Suddenly we were interrupted in 

 our conversation by a loud noise overhead. 



" A nigger killed ! " sang out somebody upon deck. 



" A nigger killed ! " repeated two, ten, twenty, and 

 at length a hundred voices ; and thereupon there was 

 a running and trampling, and hurrying and skurrying, 

 an agitation in our big floating inn as if the boilers 

 were on the brink of bursting, and giving us a passage 

 into eternity in the midst of their scalding contents. 

 Louise started up, and dragging me with her, hurried 

 breathless through the two saloons, to the stairs lead- 

 ing upon deck. 



" "Who is killed ? Where is the poor negro 1 " 



The answer I got was a horse-laugh from a score of 

 backwoodsmen. 



" Much noise about nothing, dear Louise." 



And we were on the point of descending the stairs 

 again, when we were detained, and our attention 

 riveted, by the picturesque appearance of the deck 

 I should rather say of the persons grouped upon it 

 seen in the red, flickering, and uncertain light of 

 sundry lamps, lanterns, and torches. Truly, the 



VOL. II. . - 2- B 



