If this were joint occupancy, I for one was ready to say it was time to make an end of it.

But how might that be done?
At least the proceedings of the evening gave no answer.
It was, as may be supposed, late in the night when our somewhat discordant banqueting party broke up.

We were all housed, as was the hospitable fashion of the country, in the scattered log buildings which nearly always hedge in a western fur-trading post.

The quarters assigned me lay across the open space, or what might be called the parade ground of Fort Vancouver, flanked by Doctor McLaughlin's four little cannon.
As I made my way home, stumbling among the stumps in the dark, I passed many semi-drunken Indians and _voyageurs_, to whom special liberty had been accorded in view of the occasion, all of them now engaged in singing the praises of the "King George" men as against the "Bostons." I talked now and again with some of our own brown and silent border men, farmers from the Willamette, none of them any too happy, all of them sullen and ready for trouble in any form.

We agreed among us that absolute quiet and freedom from any expression of irritation was our safest plan.